At The Barricades Of Tyranny
by He's Dangerous
Summary: Set during the first movie: What happens on Cybertron? Decepticon centric and will chronicle what happens to the minor characters on said planet while tying-in with any of the comics or movies.  Absolute power, corrupts absolutely...
1. When War Was Cheap

New story! This time I'm stepping into the territory of the Transformers Film franchise (uh-oh). And as much as the movies sucked, the background franchise was pretty good. However, I did notice something missing...

What the hell happened on Cybertron?

Sure we all knew what happened before the first movie (if you've read the comics) but rarely did a tie-in comic chronicle what happened on Cybertron during the movies or inbetween them (The only one that did that slightly was 'The Reign of Starscream', which will tie-in with this story). So, in all my wisdom, I've decided to do a rather long epic that chronicles what happens on said planet during the first movie while tying in with any comic that might reference it. This will be a daunting task (especially with school resuming next week), so I hope I'll be able to finish it before 2012. NOTE: This is a haven for minor characters from the movie franchise that you never saw and will even have a bunch of OCs!

ANOTHER NOTE: If this turns into a success (over a hundred reviews) then I may write sequels about what happens on Cybertron during the next two movies.

Until then, please read and review, and thank you for your time.

* * *

><p>There was not even a whisper in the dark. In their silence, they almost crawled through the night.<p>

A night that would never change. A night that would never end.

They slipped through the shadows of the homes and houses of their enemies. The towering metal constructs, looming over the figures in the night. There was no-one in these homes. There was no-one but the figures in the dark.

They could hear the sound of distant battle. They knew their friends were fighting, dying. Dying, on the slim chance that the figures in the shadows would save them. Dying in that battle. Another pointless, soon-to-be-forgotten battle. All for nothing.

Well, not for nothing. One more day alive. Just another day on the dying planet. That was worth fighting for.

They passed under the shadow of a dark tower. The infernal construct loomed above all others, a symbol of dominance and a symbol of fear. It had once carried the face of the most feared creature in their pitiful existence. The face of pure evil had loomed over the city, submitting every denizen of the planet around him to his will. A symbol of tyranny above all others. Never to be forgotten.

The creature was Megatron. He was dead. And his face had long since vanished from the dark tower.

The new order had risen.

But the figures in the shadow cared not about the dark tower or the face that had been upon it. They passed it without a sound, without a whisper, merely shivering at the memories of that hateful creature. They moved on, as they had done for so long.

When they finally reached their destination, it was nothing compared to the dark tower. Just a simple command centre, built over the old temple it had once been, catching the darkness of the night and blocking the optics of the shadowy figures.

They reached the bottom step of many hundreds and began to climb. Without a sound. Not even a whisper.

They knew what they had to do. One more day alive counted on it.

But just before they reached the top step, ready to enter the old temple, another figure barred their way.

Silhouetted against the sun-stripped sky, the figure gazed down at the silent intruders. The figure brooded menace with calm, cold, cunning and a bloodlust few could match. It towered over them all, two red eyes glowing in the night, mace in right hand and the left, a gun. Its eyes were glazed with psychotic madness, while the mace in hand he gripped with murderous intent. The darkness didn't wash over him: instead, it seemed to radiate from his very soul.

"Ha!" the figure barked with insane amusement, "Have the Sons of Primus returned already?"

The silent figures before him remained in their current state. They stared up with awe and fear.

"The déjà vu, how strange it is!" the figure called out to the silent city of terror, "To stand above my enemies yet again, although not coloured by the fires of war!"

One of the figures below him spoke out.

"You are the one they call Onslaught, are you not? The Butcher of Bocras?"

Onslaught stared down at them again, a new look in his eye.

"'The Butcher'?" he reiterated, in a strange tone, "A butcher? So this is how I am to be remembered…? As a common killer, not as the master of victories I really am?"

"'Master of victories'?" the lead shadow spat, "You are nothing more than a crazed murderer, looking for his next head to add to his collection!"

The darkness swallowed them all. The sounds of distant battle played on Onslaught's ears. He was pained by both the sounds of the battle and the sound of the accuser before him.

"I am a head-hunter now?" he almost choked, the mace in his right hand slipping a bit, "Me? I looked down on such petty foolishness…"

"Liar!" the lead shadow cried out, "You're a cannibal, who killed his own troops, ate their sparks and tossed their bodies on the barricade at Bocras!"

This accusation caused Onslaught to burst out laughing. He stared down at the terrified soldiers before him, a smile on his lips, a cold distance in his eyes.

"You mean Bocras, on the other side of this city?" he roared with amusement, "Don't be so pathetic! You stand before me, like terrified hatchlings when you are no doubt here as part of the battle! The last time an enemy stood before me on these steps, he looked me in the optic and told me how pathetic I was! And yet you stand before me, the gastric acid running down your legs from the sheer horror of my legacy? This war is truly coming to an end!"

The figures before him quivered with fear, staring up at the booming Onslaught. But the figure in the lead took control of his terror and stood up straight.

"I-I am Strongarm!" he proclaimed, "And y-you are… pathetic!"

Onslaught stared right into Strongarm's eyes.

"That's more like it," he whispered with manic intensity, "But do you know what happened to the bot that called me that?"

Strongarm was unmoved.

"I mashed his head so hard that it took a quartex to remove all the energon from the steps. It looked like he had been flushed through the belly of some of the worst creatures that live under this planet."

Strongarm's eyes betrayed his fear.

"And do you know what his soldiers did?" Onslaught indicated behind Strongarm to his troops, "They surrendered. And I mashed them up even harder."

Strongarm had had enough. His fist became a cannon, and he aimed it at Onslaught's head.

"Silence!" he shouted, "Now tell me: Is this where the drone shut-off switch is located?"

Onslaught's mace became tight in his hand. "Yes."

"Then stand aside or die!"

They stood each other down in the dead of night. A million stars stared down from the heavens.

Onslaught frowned. "Aren't you even going ask which side I'm on?" he asked.

Strongarm hesitated. "W-Well… whose then? Starscream's or Dreadwing's?"

Onslaught opened his mouth to answer, but the word got caught in his throat. He had thought about the answer he would always give, the answer that would state whether he had been a winner in history or a forgotten loser. The answer that would affirm him of what kind of a Decepticon he really was.

But then he realised the silliness of it all. He laughed.

"You know what…? I don't even care," he growled.

Then he knocked Strongarm's cannon away with his mace and charged.

* * *

><p><em>You know, it wasn't always like this…<em>

_War was once cheap. War was once clean. War was where you fought for what you believed in. Freedom. Control. Equality. Power. Respect. Glory. Something you always wanted yet never had the chance to obtain. Not without taking a side. So we chose sides. And the war began. I chose my side and I still don't regret it to this day. I made choices I'm not proud of, but I've never felt guilty for them. I'm just another soldier fighting in the endless bloody war._

_But this story isn't about me. No, it's about another 'con. Just a simple, everyday 'con who hoped to land it big like everyone else. It could have been Payload from the chain gangs. Or it could have been Vortex from the slums. Maybe even Fearswoop from the elite. But really, it had to be him. Mainly because he never seemed like one destined for greatness. By the Pit, he wasn't great at all. Like I said, he was just a simple, everyday 'con. But there was something different about him from everyone else. At first, it was invisible. He was just pathetic. But eventually, I saw it. Something not Megatron or Prime had by war's end. Heh, he even beat Starscream in the long run in having it. By the time the final battle at Trypticon had begun, I'd say he was the only one left in the whole of our race who had it._

_He believed in something._

_Of course, any 'con or 'bot who looked him up and down would immediately say "Power" or "Glory". But deep down, I mean really deep down, he didn't care about that. He cared about one thing only._

_Cybertron._

_The only other one who probably believed in that too was Starscream. Megatron only cared about himself. Optimus only cared about the humans he tried to warn away from the path we'd taken. Indeed, by the time the Allspark was inevitably destroyed, they were the only two that cared about this blasted piece of dead metal. And in the end, even Starscream was taken by the things that had consumed Megatron, the one cybertronian he had hated above all others. Even Starscream was taken by greed and a lust for power._

_But the other one? He never gave up in what he believed in. By the pit, even Ramjet sided with him! And that conniving, self-centred piece of slag wouldn't have moved a muscle for The Fallen!_

_This story isn't about me. I play a part of course. Everyone plays a part in every story. But this one isn't about me._

_This is the story of a 'con who would look into the optic of a drone and be envious of it._

_War was once cheap. War was once clean. War was where you fought for what you believed in._

_You know, it wasn't always like this…_

* * *

><p>He gazed into the setting sun, the rifle held in both hands. His golden optic filtered the radiant light that came from the life giving force, the beauty of such an object, so far away and yet so close. He felt the warmth of its rays upon his armour, absorbing the life-giving energy as the stolen star began to disappear. He sighed, knowing that his circuits were at full power and he had to now do his job.<p>

He knelt on one knee, stared through the scope of the rifle and looked out over Kaon.

The once peaceful city had been brought to its knees by the war. Autobots and Decepticons battled throughout the city, each trying to grab a factory, temple, tall building, anything to help gain an advantage over the enemy. As such, every building in the city had been damaged in some way. His sniping position was a simple hole in the wall on the 45th floor of an old, sacked hospital. The street below it was covered in rubble and debris, and countless bodies. Devastated drones, charred corpses and flaming tanks were on display for all to see. Not that anyone was watching. Not that anyone cared. Well, except for two people. The sniper and the corpse robber.

He peered through the scope at the spindly little creature. Frenzy was tearing at the body of a drone, hoping to get at a power core or weapon. His larger and much more menacing partner Barricade was nowhere to be seen, so the sniper took the opportunity to study the little creature through the scope.

Frenzy was like a mad animal at the drone, tearing his way through the armour and circuits, half-muttering, half-giggling as he did so. After all, he wasn't the one who was dead. So he could laugh all he wanted. That, and the fact that he enjoyed tearing apart corpses, just to see if their expression changed in death. As the drone didn't have much of a face, this shredding was beneficial only. A minute later, Frenzy triumphantly tore out the power core, his mandibles snapping wildly with excitement.

The sniper was tempted to shoot him, but being a Decepticon as well, realised that was quite out of order. Added the fact that Barricade scared him. Pit, Barricade scared everyone.

Well, except the top dogs. But the sniper hadn't seen much of them. Not that he wanted to.

Instead, he shot the ground beside the drone's corpse. A sharp beam of concentrated light burned a hole beside the body and Frenzy squeled with fear, tearing like heck through the corpse-filled street, taking cover in a ruined building. When he didn't reappear for a few minutes, the sniper knew he was gone.

_Stupid, stupid! You shouldn't just reveal your location like that! What if there was an Autobot sniper? What if Barricade's going to come looking for you? What if—_

And then he noticed a buzzing.

Well, not a buzzing. A droning. An incessant sound that was becoming louder with each passing nano-klik. The sniper readied his rifle.

And then they appeared at the end of the street. Four flyers, tearing down the old block like it was a race of sorts. Only this was a race of death.

The three behind were firing lasers and missiles, screaming past buildings in their attempt to gun down the lead plane, who was flipping, spinning, whirling, rolling, screeching past the buildings in an attempt to lose the pursuers. And although the three pursuers were obviously good flyers, there was no doubt the plane they were chasing was an ace, his movements magnificent and his speed incredible…

And then they got him.

A missile struck the lead plane's wing, sending him tumbling through his own smoke, thrashing wildly in an attempt to keep altitude. His engines burned with furious intensity, skimming over the bodies on the street as he tried with all his might not to crash. But it was all for nought. The plane crashed into the rubble and corpses, smashing a path down the street thanks to the velocity he had been going at. He finally came to rest directly below the old hospital. Due to the fact that he wasn't transforming, the sniper realised he was unconscious or dead.

The other three planes flew above the new body on the street, transforming and landing perfectly, as if they had practised many times before. The sniper bristled, for he recognised one of them. Barrelroll. One of the Autobot Aerialbots who had been leading the air campaign over Kaon since the beginning of the war, the sniper had Barrelroll's name near the top of his 'To Kill' list.

"I… I don't believe it sir!" said one of the flyers next to Barrelroll, "We got him!"

"Yes, I believe we did," Barrelroll breathed, unable to believe it himself.

The sniper aimed down the scope at the face almost directly below him. Barrelroll was in his sights.

And then the sniper made a decision that would change his life forever, for better or for worse.

He fired.

Of course, Barrelroll had to have chosen that exact moment to bend over and inspect the damage they'd caused. The shot missed his head by millimetres, splintering a dead drone into pieces. The Autobot flyers panicked, scrambling around, looking for the sniper and looking for cover.

Realising that the element of surprise was lost, the sniper realised he had to go toe-to-toe with these guys, if he didn't want them to find him first.

He leapt off the building.

* * *

><p>The first Barrelroll knew of the sniper's location was when the sniper himself landed on top of one of his wingmen. He fell with such force and such speed, that the flyer was simply smashed to pieces underneath him, unable to even fight back. Leaping off the shattered Autobot, the sniper faced down the other two flyers, still a little shaky from his trip down the hospital.<p>

Barrelroll and his remaining wingman looked between the sniper and the downed Decepticon. A missile launcher slid onto Barrelroll's wrist, knowing that battle was about to begin, while the accompanying flyer drew a hatchet from his leg. The sniper dropped his rifle and readied his weapons as well, his right arm becoming a blaster and his left drawing an energon machete from his back. He twirled the blade, ready to launch himself into melee if needed.

"No such thing as a free meal, huh?" Barrelroll grinned, ready to charge at any second.

"Not on the grounds of the dead, Autobot scrap," the sniper snarled in response.

But someone else solved the fight for them.

"_Barrelroll, this is Silverbolt. Fall back immediately! Barricade and twelve more Decepticons are approaching from the east and will be on you in approximately four kliks. Fall back!"_

The sniper had not heard the message, so Barrelroll simply smiled and paced backwards.

"Gotta go," he smiled unnervingly, "But I'll see you in the future…"

"Yeah," the sniper replied, "The same way your friend is: Without life."

Barrelroll and his compatriot took their flight quickly, as the sniper turned to look at the downed Decepticon through his large, golden optic.

He was beginning to stir, slowly moving his parts through a painful transformation in the hopes that he would be able to stand. His bronze armour reflected the dimming sun and his sharp fingers stretched and held onto corpses for support as he stood. He groaned, red eyes flaring in the limelight, spitting out gathered gastric acid. He stared at the sniper as he stood up straight.

"You alright?" the sniper asked.

The red eyes focused as if seeing the sniper for the first time.

"Oh, great," he spat, "Saved by a drone… how pathetic."

The sniper turned angry, his golden optic focusing hard on the other Decepticon, unable to recognise him.

"I am not a drone!" he said angrily, "And I just saved your life! I believe thanks are in order."

"I was going to get out of that scrape anyway…" the Decepticon stood arrogantly, "I do not need the assistance of the common foot soldier!"

"Well, apparently you do," the sniper retorted, still fuming, "State your name and rank, now!"

Red eyes swept over the sniper, gazing with either astonishment or amusement.

"Do you not recognise me?" the Decepticon stared.

"I would recognise you better, if you told me your name and rank!" the sniper almost shouted. He was at the edge of fury.

"Only if you tell me yours."

The sniper calmed a bit. He knew this arrogant fool would answer to the Lieutenant when they returned to the forward command centre.

"My name is Dreadwing, Decepticon flyer with the 2nd Aerial Assault Regiment, 1st Battalion under Lieutenant Thundercracker! Now give me your name and rank soldier!"

But before the other Decepticon could answer, the trademark booming of another Decepticon flyer could be heard. Indeed, he could be heard from over 200 hundred miles away if he so wished it, just to plant the root of fear into whoever he was hunting. One of the best warriors in Kaon, he could have taken on Barrelroll and his wingmen, killed them, burned their bodies to ash and scattered the ashes across Cybertron and not suffer a scratch in the process.

Thundercracker thundered past the buildings, transforming in mid-air before landing in the street, skidding towards Dreadwing and the other Decepticon, smashing through the corpses as he went.

He arrived before Dreadwing and his arrogant company, saluting as he did so.

"Commander! Sorry to arrive late, the Autobots held us up in Kasric block…" then Thundercracker looked at Dreadwing. "Who are you?" his voice laced with menace.

"W-Wait, who's in command?" Dreadwing asked, confused, "Who's the commander?"

"I am, simpleton," the other Decepticon stated with supreme reverence, "I am Commander Starscream of Lord Megatron's high elite, leader of the Kaon invasion force and supreme commander of the Decepticon air force. And I believe you're a part of both."

Dreadwing looked up at Starscream and almost fell over with shock at who he was addressing. Instead, he fell to one knee.

"Commander Starscream! Please excuse my impudence, I did not realise who you were! I am just a humble sniper who was protecting this street when you were shot down! I did not mean—"

"You were shot down?" Thundercracker asked, shocked, a hidden smile on his lips.

Starscream huffed and waved it away as if it were an annoying bug. "Forget about it, both of you. It was a lucky shot. Could've happened to any one of us."

"What about this one?" Thundercracker asked, looking down on Dreadwing.

Starscream looked at the kneeling figure before him. His eyes brimmed with curiosity.

"Why is it Dreadwing, that you look so much like a drone? Are the birth-tanks just choosers or did Flatline just drop you on your head when you were a hatchling?"

Thundercracker laughed as Dreadwing's eye was glazed over with fury again.

"No, commander, neither of those," Dreadwing responded, "I was once just a Class-A drone, but my power core developed a rare virus that caused it mutate into a self-aware spark. I then joined the Decepticons so I—"

"Alright, alright," Starscream sighed, "I didn't ask for your life details! Just where did those Autobots go…?" he asked, staring around him.

"I killed one of them and scared off the others, sir!" Dreadwing replied.

Starscream looked down with cold surprise. "Really?"

"Yes commander! The one I killed is over there," Dreadwing pointed at the corpse of the Autobot he had landed on, "And Barrelroll and the other one flew off, running to the hills!"

"Well," Starscream inwardly groaned, knowing he owed this weak little creature his life, "Are you a good flyer?"

"A good flyer?"

"A good flyer. Yes, that's what I said. Would you like me to repeat myself for a third time?"

"Oh no sir! But yes sir, I am a good flyer. The fastest one in my unit!"

"Then what were you doing sniping?"

Dreadwing turned his face down, looking at the ground in shame.

"Well sir… I'm grounded sir."

"Grounded?"

Thundercracker's face lit up in recognition. "Ah yes! I remember you now! You were one of the soldiers suspected of treason, grounded until such suspicion could be cleared!"

"You're a traitor?" Starscream asked coldly.

"Certainly not... commander!" Dreadwing added hurriedly, "It's just because some of the drones went haywire and as I was in control of them, I was suspected."

"Why should I trust someone like you then?" Starscream stared down with gleaming red eyes.

Dreadwing got to his feet in anger, staring Starscream in the eye. "Because I just saved your life!"

They coldly stared at each other, eyes blazing with fury.

Thundercracker's right arm became an axe. "Why you impudent-!" he snarled, readying his axe, "How dare you disrespect your commanding officer!"

"No, wait!" Starscream said, holding Thundercracker's blow with his hand, "One last thing."

He stared at Dreadwing again, looking him in his large, golden optic for a face.

"Are you a traitor?"

"Of course not! I would die for the Decepticon cause!"

"And just what is the Decepticon cause?"

"Order and control! Without it, the Autobots would rule with their false Prime!"

"Order and control of what?"

This question caught Dreadwing off-guard.

"Well… order and control of… for Cybertron!"

"For Cybertron?" Starscream reiterated, hidden amusement in his eyes, "Isn't it control _of _Cybertron for our Lord Megatron?"

Dreadwing shook slightly, knowing the wrong answer could kill him.

"Well… no sir!" Dreadwing shouted out, "This world isn't Megatron's! This world is for every Cybertronian under the sun who goes by the name of Decepticon!"

Thundercracker held his axe ready, awaiting the word from Starscream.

Starscream smiled like a shark. "Tell me Dreadwing… have you heard of the Seekers?"

"The Seekers? You mean the ones from legend?"

"Well done. You're not as dumb as you look," Starscream said, "And what do you know of the Seekers?"

"They were the most elite soldiers of the Decepticon cause, sent out to the stars to find a machine capable of creating energon for our planet when it could not acquire a sun of its own," Dreadwing remembered from the libraries at Simfur, "They explored the universe, forever searching for the key to life on Cybertron. They cared not for themselves or of others, only for the planet on which they lived on, were born on. They were the true sentinels of our race, the true guardians of our planet."

"Very good," Starscream responded, "But they never found the means to create energon… but then again, they didn't need to. Thanks to Decepticon scientific genius, we brought a sun of our own to us! And now the Autobots wish to rid of that, the one thing that gives the Allspark the energy it needs to help keep this planet alive! They wish to erase our sun forever, just like they hid the solar harvester all those long meta-cycles ago!"

"They do?" Dreadwing asked, shocked, "But why…? How could they be so foolish?"

"So to commemorate what our ancestors did," Starscream proclaimed, "I am forging my own group of Seekers, to protect this planet and all we hold dear to it. These will be the strongest, fastest and above all, most loyal of all the Decepticons on this planet. All we need is more members…"

If Dreadwing had taken breaths, he would have held this one in.

"By helping me overcome the odds," Starscream flattered, "I will extend an offer for you to join the Seekers."

"Really sir?" Dreadwing said, unbelieving, "You wish me to join your most elite?"

"Yes… BUT!" Starscream waved a finger in Dreadwing's face, "Because the Seekers are the most elite of all Decepticons, they work the hardest, train the hardest and above all, fight the hardest! So I must warn you now, if you accept this invitation, then you will be a Seeker for life, no matter what may happen on this planet. Whether the Decepticons lose or the planet is destroyed or even if, say, Megatron officially disbands the Seekers, you are a Seeker for life!"

Without thinking twice, Dreadwing knew the answer. "I accept your most gracious offer commander! Thank you!"

"BUT!" Starscream said again, this time his blood-red eyes inches from Dreadwing's face, "You must never betray me. Betraying me, betrays the Seekers and vice versa. That is treason. And the punishment for treason… is _death_. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Commander Starscream," Dreadwing saluted.

"Well then," Starscream stood up straight, "Let's return to the command centre. You need to meet the rest of the group."

And with that, the three Seekers transformed and flew into the air.

* * *

><p><em>Back then, everyone was young. Everyone was foolish.<em>

_Were we slaves already? Slaves to the never-ending conflict…?_

_But back then, there was one consolation: We were winning. The Autobots lost battle after battle, being forced into hiding most of the time. We were trampling them underfoot, a march of progress and power so terrifying that none could stand in our way, torn to pieces by our blades and cannons._

_And that is why it's so painful…_

_Because we were so close…_

* * *

><p>The screams of the dying filled the air. There were no wounded. You either fought, or died. Thousands of cybertronians crashed against each other, fighting for blade and axe, gun and cannon, tooth and claw. Energon splashed against the metallic surface like a flood, corpses piling under the towering structures of Simfur. The waging of war was reflected in their energon-stained armour and the fires of death were reflected in the fear of their eyes.<p>

But in one particular part of the battlefield, those fires burned brighter than ever.

"BURRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNN!" a Decepticon roared as jets of purple flame bathed the Autobots before him. They screamed as their mouths melted, their circuits snapped and sparks burnt.

Incinerator roared with delight as the Autobots cooked before him. He laughed at the beautiful fires before him, eyes lapping up the melted skin of his enemies with unmatched glee. He loved his work, his job within the Decepticon army. He didn't fight for the power or the glory. As long as things burned by his hands, then he was as content as he could be.

He turned on a figure to his right, recognising him before he had the chance to fire.

"Ah," Incinerator half-laughed, half-barked, "Sixshot… so nice of you to join us… so late in the battle," he baited.

Sixshot didn't reply, instead gunning down another Autobot with battle pistols in each hand. Twirling them around, he blew off the head of another one, before throwing a small knife into the throat of another, who gargled out his last breath.

"I was holding..." Sixshot said coolly, "...The right flank. Those men need air support. Where are the Seekers?"

"Beats me!" Incinerator cried with joy as another Autobot was reduced to pool of molten metal, "Who needs air support anyway?"

"They do," Sixshot responded, shooting down the Autobots as they advanced, "They're close to breaking. Stockade is not a soldier or a leader."

"Who cares?" Incinerator laughed.

Then his right arm was torn off by a sniper's bullet. He screamed with pain as he fell behind a small barricade of rubble, Sixshot doing the same.

"Did you see the sniper?" Sixshot asked without much pity.

"No, I did not slagging see him!" Incinerator roared, "He shot me! ME!"

"Yes he did. What a shock."

Suddenly another shot rang throughout the battlefield, this one from a different rifle. Another Decepticon, bearing such a rifle, appeared out of the smoke.

"Don't worry, I got him," he said.

"Who are you?" Sixshot asked.

"Vortex," the Decepticon answered, "And I blew off his head. So you can stop hiding now."

As Incinerator reached out and tried to reattach his arm, Sixshot went over to Vortex.

"Can you get a message through to command?" he asked.

"About the right flank? Tried already, they're not listening."

"At this rate, the Autobots will shatter the right and encircle us. We'll need Onslaught's reserves before long."

"How can they be doing this?" Vortex fumed, "This is supposed to be the last Autobot stronghold. When Simfur falls, we rule Cybertron!"

Sixshot looked out to the city. "No… I believe the Autobots are planning something…"

"Like what?" Vortex questioned.

"Doesn't matter. I'm probably wrong. We need to push through the centre anyway. If we do that, it'll relieve some of the pressure off the right. Then we can move onto the factory district and attack the old temple at Simfur."

"Where the Allspark was kept?" Vortex asked, hate seeping into his voice.

"Yes, where the Autobots removed it. So sending our sun back to the stars."

"Those pieces of damned slag!" Vortex roared, kicking an Autobot head across the ground.

Meanwhile, Incinerator had finished fixing his arm back and was impatiently waiting for them.

"So are we burning the centre then, or what?" he snarled.

Sixshot looked across the battlefield debris at the Autobots, who were fast trying to create a defensive line. He was about to order an attack, when a droning suddenly filled the air.

"What's that?" Incinerator jabbered.

And then the whole Autobot line exploded into flame, bodies screaming as they were scattered across the battlefield. Thirteen flyers screamed through the eternal night above them.

"YEEHAW!" Incinerator roared with delight as the columns of fire lit up the night.

Sixshot looked upwards as Vortex smiled.

"They have arrived."

* * *

><p>Barrelroll and his squadron shot past the skyscrapers of Simfur, trying as hard as they could to avoid the six Seekers that chased them through the night. They ducked low, flying through the fires of the battle raging below. Every once in a while, the Seekers would eradicate an Autobot line with their missiles and lasers, the flames whipping Barrelroll and his squadron with burning intensity.<p>

He heard one of his squad members go down.

"!" the squad member screamed as he smashed into a skyscraper, reduced to pieces of twisted metal, the echo of his death reverberating throughout the darkened city.

"Keep it tight troops!" Barrelroll roared into his comm.

"Help! Help sir! HE'S ON TOP OF ME!"

Barrelroll turned his optics to see one of the Seekers had transformed and landed on top of another of his squad. With sickening joy, the Seeker slammed an axe into the flyer's nose-cone, before leaping back into the air and tearing the Autobot in half before transforming and continuing the chase.

Now only five left, Barrelroll knew they stood no chance against the elite Decepticon air wing. Their only hope was to lose them in the burning city.

But as another of his squad screamed into the ground below them, Barrelroll felt that hope begin to fade.

* * *

><p>"I got 'im, I got 'im!" Voltage almost squeled with delight.<p>

"Well done," Ramjet drawled with sarcasm, "But it was nothing compared to what I did to that one just now. When was the last time you tore a 'bot in half with an axe? In mid-air?"

"Stop whining and stay on target!" Divebomb tried to snarl, but coming out as a whine.

They tore down the streets, Barrelroll and his four remaining wingmen trying to out-manoeuvre them as the battle around them raged on and in the buildings.

"Shut up Divebomb!" Stormslayer cried, "Or I'll knock you out of the sky myself!"

"As much as Divebomb annoys me, he's right," Dreadwing said, "Keep on target and destroy Barrelroll: That slippery piece of scrap won't get away this time!"

"Well, I don't know about you guys," Ramjet grinned, "But he's mine."

Dreadwing frowned. "Starscream told me to be in command for this operation, so I'll be the one to finish him—"

"Not on my watch!" whooped Skywarp, who fired up his afterburners to their maximum efficiency.

In response, the five other Seekers followed suit.

* * *

><p>Barrelroll was panicking. And as soon as he felt himself panic, he knew the end was near.<p>

He felt a great sadness come over him.

_What was it all for? One more flight through the sky just before I die? One last run through the ruins of our race…_

Another one of his soldiers exploded.

"Everyone, split up!" he roared into his comm, "Skyblast, head west! Nightslayer, head east! Wingblade, double-back the way we came: Confuse the boltheads!"

"Roger sir!" they all cried, and went off in their separate directions.

_If this is the end, I'll take as many as I can with me._

* * *

><p>Suffice to say, the six Seekers didn't expect one of their targets to come roaring back towards them.<p>

"Whoa!" Voltage cried out as Wingblade screeched past them.

"Ramjet, Skywarp: Go after the one that just went past us!" Dreadwing shouted, "Stormslayer, take the one heading west! Divebomb, take the one heading east! Voltage, we're taking Barrelroll!"

Like their Autobot opposites before, the Seekers split up.

_I've hunted you for many meta-cycles Barrelroll,_ Dreadwing thought, _Tonight, at last, it will end._

* * *

><p>After a few more miles, Barrelroll stopped running.<p>

He transformed in mid-air, landing on top of a large rooftop, skidding to a halt.

Knowing his intention, Dreadwing and Voltage did the same.

Barrelroll had not yet turned to face his two hunters, forcing them to stare at his charred back.

"Well then?" Dreadwing shouted at him, "Do you face your death like an honourable warrior, or do you look away like a pathetic coward?"

Voltage readied his blades, which crackled with electricity that ran through them.

Barrelroll slowly turned to face them. His black armour reflected the fires of the burning buildings around him as a boom echoed in the distance and continued to sound, getting closer with every second.

"We don't have long," Voltage whispered.

"I know," Dreadwing responded, "I'm not deaf."

Barrelroll stared at them both. After a few seconds, he turned to face the sky.

"It ends tonight," he said whimsically, "It all ends tonight…"

"We know that," Dreadwing snarled as he and Voltage began to circle him, "So speak your last rites."

"My last rites?" Barrelroll smiled, "Fine then… but not before you speak yours!"

He leapt at Dreadwing, smashing into him and knocking him to the ground before landing hammer blow after hammer blow onto his face.

The distant booming was getting louder.

"You've hunted me across the ages, haven't you?" Barrelroll grinned as a crack glanced across Dreadwing's optic, "You little twerp Dreadwing… that was your last mistake!"

But then Barrelroll screamed, currents of electricity running through him like a thousand daggers. He spun around, knocking Voltage to the ground, before taking out the electric blade in his back, screaming as he did it. He roared and leapt into the air, the blade in his hands, bringing it down on a screaming Voltage, who put his arms in front of him, which failed to deflect the roaring death.

As Dreadwing got to his knees, Voltage no longer screamed, his own blade through his head.

And then Barrelroll's back exploded.

He screamed again, his vocal processor barely working, and fell to his knees. He turned his head to see Dreadwing standing, smoke in the air from his arm, a missile recently launched.

The booming was no longer distant. It was all around them.

"Ha…" Barrelroll whispered, "Looks like you got me…"

Dreadwing unsteadily walked to him, the crack in his optic impairing his vision. He was lucky enough to have hit the Autobot, let alone land a crippling blow.

"So then…" Barrelroll spat, "Finish it."

"I'm not going to be the one who ends you Barrelroll. That is reserved for the one who has now arrived."

Barrelroll smiled as the booming stopped.

Thundercracker landed behind Barrelroll with a resounding crash. The Autobot didn't move.

Thundercracker's right arm transformed into a pick-like axe, stained a lighter shade of blue than his body thanks to the raw sparks it had already tasted that night. He dug it into the front of Barrelroll's chest while bending his head to whisper in the Autobot's audio receptors.

"Any last words…?" the Seeker of fear spoke, "So that I may hear your voice tremble with horror…"

Barrelroll roared with laughter, energon spilling from his mouth. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Look to the sky you fools! See it disappear into the void! Watch as our planet's life fades into darkness!"

So they turned to where he was looking. And saw it scream towards space.

The Allspark. On the journey of an eternity.

"What have you done?" Dreadwing whispered, "Was sending our sun back to the stars not enough?"

"It will never be enough until there isn't a single power-hungry Decepticon left," Barrelroll muttered, smiling.

"But Cybertron is doomed!" Dreadwing roared and grabbed Barrelroll's throat, "Our planet will die! Is that your plan!"

"YES!" Barrelroll gurgled and Dreadwing released him in shock.

Thundercracker drew his axe upwards, carving through Barrelroll's chest and ripping off his head with his spine still attached.

"What now?" Dreadwing asked.

"Now," Thundercracker frowned as he saw something fly into the air after the Allspark, "We contact Commander Starscream."

* * *

><p>On another part of the battlefield, the fires of war were still raging.<p>

As Blackout tore apart another Autobot with his shockwave cannons, Barricade and Frenzy looted a corpse while Bonecrusher smashed apart another ten Autobot drones.

But one of the Decepticons was doing nothing like that. Instead his gaze was turned towards the sky.

"Lord Megatron, where are you going?" Starscream called out, as the ruler of the Decepticons chased after the disappearing Allspark.

"Prime intends to keep the Allspark from me," Megatron replied, fury in his voice, "From us… But simply sending it into space will not be enough."

_What is this fool doing? _Starscream fumed. "But what about the Autobots? Even though we outnumber them, they still pose a threat! This distraction could be intended to delay us. Prime's forces have been off our sensors for some time now."

"Starscream, you idiot…" Megatron tried to sigh, but coming out as a small roar, "Without the Allspark, Prime is finished—Defeated! Soon I shall have the cube and you shall have him and his followers. None are to survive. When I return with the Allspark, Cybertron will be mine—Ours."

He left his aerial commander with one final message.

"Do not fail me, Starscream."

Starscream almost screamed with rage at his Lord's idiocy. _The Allspark comes second to destroying the Autobots! They are the ones who threaten Cybertron the most!_

But he didn't say those things. So he just stared as Megatron followed the Allspark out of the atmosphere.

"Thundercracker, do you copy?" he called into his comm.

"Yes Commander! Did you see—?"

"Of course I did, you simpleton!" he called exasperatingly, "Rally on my position. Who's with you?"

"One of your soldier's sir, Dreadwing," came Thundercracker's reply.

"Dreadwing… ah yes, I remember him now. Dreadwing?"

"Yes Commander Starscream?" came the eager voice.

"Our _esteemed _Lord Megatron just flew after the Allspark! Go after him and monitor his progress!"

Dreadwing gulped. "Y-You want me to spy on the leader of the Decepticons?"

"No you little fool; I just want you to follow him! Quickly, before he goes beyond our grasp!"

As Dreadwing shot into the air after their leader, Thundercracker made his way towards his Commander.

Meanwhile, Starscream began to pace towards a familiar building, one that was famous on the planet they lived upon.

"Where are you going Starscream?" Barricade asked, watching his commander out of cunning red eyes.

Starscream looked back at him. "Just a walk, Barricade… just a little walk…"

_Of course Prime would choose to fight here in Simfur,_ he thought, as he paced across debris and bodies, the battle still being fought nearby, _Where the Allspark was first discovered long ago. When our planet flourished._

He heard Bonecrusher roar as an Autobot screamed.

_Cybertronian records would reflect this… had we not wiped it from the data banks entirely._

He walked into the temple.

It was a pitiful sight. Rubble was piled around the stand where it had once been placed, a shadow of the beautiful building it had once been. The ceiling stretched towards the heavens, darkened by the lack of sun that had been missing for so long. Empty, with the exception of the odd metallic insect that buzzed through the air, looking for raw energon to feed on. Not that it would find any. It was a sad, pitiful sight.

_It rested in the middle of this war zone, until Prime's forces stole the Allspark from under our sensors. Removed from this temple, Cybertron slowly began to perish._

He frowned as he recalled Prime at this very temple, all those years ago. And he remembered the glee he'd felt when he had destroyed Sentinel Prime and his _Ark. _But on reflection, maybe it had been the beginning of the end…

_Foolish Prime, you are no different than Megatron, fighting for your own selfish reasons. Why rule this barren land, devoid of assets and vitality? Why fight for this temple again, knowing that the Allspark had long since…_

A huge rumble filled the air. The building shook and Starscream ran out to find the disturbance.

A huge Autobot ship filled the sky, flying over the skyscrapers of Simfur. It was heading towards Tyger Pax, where the Allspark had been launched from.

…_vanished._

"Decepticons… ready the attack craft—we're going after them!"

* * *

><p>As he struck through the sky like a missile, the heat whipped his skin. As he passed the stratosphere, metal melted off like snakeskin.<p>

Dreadwing flew through the atmosphere, leaving battle far behind him.

By the time he reached the edge of the exosphere, he had caught up with Megatron and the Allspark. He was nervous, this being the closest he had ever been to the grand Decepticon leader, the most feared person on the planet below them.

Likewise, this was the closest he had ever been to the Allspark.

Even though he was still a mile behind it, its raw energy flowed through him, a vitality he had not felt since the sun had watched over them all with its life-giving rays and beautiful light…

_So close… the object of every cybertronian's desire. An object that gives life unlike any other, a glowing star in the eternal blackness, the light at the end of the universe. We have fought for it, we have struggled for it, we have killed for it and now…_

He saw with sinking hopes that Megatron was failing to catch up with the Allspark.

_...It's disappearing from our grasp._

_But why? By Primus, why is it going? This object that sustains our life and our planet… why now, when it is needed most, must it be doomed on a voyage into the forest of stars? Does it matter if we were selfish? Let us pay for our foolishness in other ways! But why doom us all…?_

He stared out of his optic, recently repaired on his trip into space, and watched the great life and the great evil as they flew into space. He knew what he had to do.

"Starscream…" Dreadwing called into his comm, "I've spotted Megatron."

"Excellent, Dreadwing," Starscream responded, "What's his trajectory?"

Dreadwing tried to concentrate, but the radiation from the cube overpowered him like a miasma of power.

"I'm—I'm not sure. The cube's giving off some crazy energy signatures… but it looks like he's heading toward the Eshems Nebula."

"Follow him!" Starscream commanded, "We'll be there shortly."

"Affirmative," Dreadwing replied, "He's too far away, so I'll have to warp ahead. Unlike your other soldiers, I won't fail you, Starscr—"

Then, all of a sudden, a great shadow was cast over him.

"—Wha?" he cried out, as he looked behind him.

Looming over him like a vast, predatory bird was a huge Autobot ship, a couple of miles long at least. It passed over him as if he we're the smallest tadpole in the ocean of emptiness.

"Starscream!" he cried into his comm, "An Autobot ship! They're here!"

And then, like an asteroid field of humongous ball-bearings, the Autobot ship dropped a field of incredibly dark mines, almost impossible to spot in the jet black of the void.

_Mines? But who's following them…?_

"We're following, Dreadwing," came Starscream's voice over the comm.

Dreadwing turned to see a _Nemesis_-type attack craft, one of the elite star-ships of the Decepticon cause, coming towards them at full speed.

Coming straight towards the mine-field.

The mine-field that Dreadwing was in the middle of.

"NOOOO—!" he cried out, all too late.

It took only one touch of a single mine on the attack craft's hull to cause the whole thing to go up in flames.

The inferno tore the blackness up. Explosions and pillars of flame tore the _Nemesis _apart, pieces of the ship being torn off, blown up and set alight. Dreadwing, caught in the middle, took the full force of it.

The Autobot ship continued after Megatron.

Megatron continued after the Allspark.

And as Dreadwing's vision began to fade, he saw the Allspark glowing in the distance.

It would be the last time he ever would.

* * *

><p>"Blackout—Damage report!" Starscream roared on the bridge of the <em>Nemesis<em>.

The hulking intelligence officer responded as the reports came flooding onto the command screen.

"There is massive damage to our nav-system and the hull," Blackout replied, "We're still flight-worthy but limping. Looks like it was a concussion chain—equipped with a blanket cloak—designed to slow us down."

"Spare me your inane commentary," Starscream spat as smoke billowed into the room, "Of course it was designed for that—the Autobots are after the Allspark and don't want us to follow."

He frowned as he inspected the damage himself.

"Now, if you will, have Scorponok retrieve Dreadwing," Starscream continued, "If he's survived the blasts, he may still be of some use to us."

A few kliks later, in the vastness of space, Scorponok had Dreadwing (and his arm, which had been torn off during the explosion) in his grasp. As much as the little scavenger would like to have eaten the heavily damaged Seeker, he didn't know what Starscream would do. And Starscream could be very mean.

He called it in to Blackout, who called it in to Starscream.

"Scorponok has him, Starscream," Blackout told his commander, "Spark strength is weak… survival, improbable."

Starscream thought about dismissing the waste of space that Scorponok had in his grasp and quickly returning to the docks at Trypticon for repairs… but something stayed that order. He remembered a long time ago, a nervous but eager sniper who wanted nothing more than to hold up the ideals of Cybertron. Ideals that Starscream held very close to heart. Add the fact that the little rookie had saved his life.

"Very well," he sighed, "Bring him aboard and prepare for our descent. Alert our ground forces that our ship will require maintenance—drones or slaves will do."

The _Nemesis _turned about and returned to Cybertron—Humbled and broken.

While the Allspark and Megatron flew further away.

Never to return again.

* * *

><p><em>Was it a curse that he was broken on that night? Would he have died on Starscream's voyage after the Allspark? Indeed, Starscream was the only one to return from that doomed journey, but that would happen much later.<em>

_But Starscream's voyage and the hunt for the Allspark will not be chronicled here. That has been recorded many times before… but what happened on Cybertron?_

_Ah… these were the darkest times for our beloved planet, so a record must exist of the heroes and villains of it._

_But then again, there weren't many heroes at all. Indeed, anyone who could be considered a hero wound up dead. In the end, there were only villains and monsters._

_So this was the new age on Cybertron, the new order._

_A new age... where war would no longer be cheap..._

_The Age of Monsters._


	2. The Thing That Should Not Be

If you haven't guessed from the first chapter, this fan-fic will be three things: Stupidly long, epically overblown and a tad silly. If you don't like it, then I'd rather you kept your opinions to yourself and find something you do like. If you find any mistakes that don't tie-in with the movie universe, please tell me what they are. Reviews welcome.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you like it!

* * *

><p><em>As I no doubt fight my last battle, the memories come flooding back. Is this it? The story of my life, flashing before my eyes… then I'll tell what I can.<em>

_By the time he was delivered to a field hospital, the _Nemesis _was repaired and flightworthy. By the time he was being treated, Starscream and his doomed cadre flew into the void, on a voyage to recapture the Allspark and Megatron._

_But Starscream was just one of the 'big three' of Megatron's high command. His most loyal commander, Soundwave, had left many meta-cycles earlier on a different voyage, to find a machine forgotten by time immemorial. Which left only one._

_I don't believe there are good people. Just people who fight each other. Only villains…_

_But he was something else entirely._

_If anyone could take the title of monster, then it was him. A machine without mercy, who killed with remorseless joy and no understanding of empathy. If you think about it hard enough, he was worse than Megatron. Which makes him the most evil Cybertronian who ever lived._

_Even when Optimus and Megatron were like brothers and were happy with the world they lived upon, this machine craved nothing more than death. He cared not for power, influence, position or wealth. He cared for one thing: Killing._

_He only served the Decepticons out of loyalty to Megatron; otherwise he would have killed for whichever side offered more enemies. The Decepticons were lucky and the Autobots hid themselves, hoping they weren't next in his warpath._

_The monster was Shockwave._

_And he ruled Cybertron._

* * *

><p>Light.<p>

Bright light.

He tried to lower the filters on his optic, but nothing happened.

He tried to look around him, the light filling his head, but his head wouldn't move.

But his audio receptors still worked.

"Will he live?" asked a faraway voice.

"Doubtful," came a nasal, nasty tone filled with malicious intent, "The patient took those mines like a magnet. He's lucky he lost only an arm. But I believe it's thanks to his mutant spark that he shrugged off the worst."

"Ensure he remains alive, doctor," came the faraway voice, still out of focus, "His connection to the drones would help us in future combat. A distraction at least…"

"Wait," came the nasty voice again, "I believe… frag, he's regaining consciousness! Lower his higher brain functions!"

As Dreadwing began to slip back into a powerless state, he heard one last exchange.

"Do not worry, Lord Shockwave," the malicious voice continued, "While under my care I will do the best I can to help him live. But if he dies…"

"Flatline, if he dies then he is no longer a concern. You may do what you wish with the body."

* * *

><p>"What do you plan to do, Doctor Flatline?" she asked.<p>

"I do not understand why Shockwave would consider command over the drones so important. Although the subject does have a strange connection to the drones on a possible psychic or symbiotic level, I do not believe healing him warrants my time and attention."

"Then what do you believe you should be doing?"

"Experimenting with rare or strange spark-types. And this is one of the strangest. The subject's spark was an old Class-A drone power core with a simple supply of processed energon, unlike the raw version in other cybertronians and general life itself. But a virus of unknown origin infected his core whilst in the middle of combat causing severe pain and the automatic rewriting of his programming. This led to the creation of an identity and the name 'Dreadwing'. A rather strange and exciting example."

"You-You mean he's really an AI?"

"Artificial intelligence is a crude but adequate example to describe his condition. But don't be surprised by it: The 600-series Data Collector drones from the Burthov docks have had cases of developing self-awareness as well. I prefer to think of it as… waking up."

"'Waking', doctor?"

"All of us, cybertronians and drones alike, have energon within us. But it's the different formats that decide whether or not we are sentient. The hatcheries place raw energon into the sparks of new-borns to give them life while factories simply place processed energon into specialised holding power cores which are then implanted in basic machines. These create drones, each imprinted with the command structure of either an Autobot or a Decepticon. But what we have here is the case of a developed core: I believe a virus has penetrated the very spark of Dreadwing and developed, no, _regressed_ his energon to that of the raw version. How this has happened is both mysterious and fascinating. Honestly, he is a… thing that should not be."

"So, what you're saying is that if we used raw energon on the drones, then they would become self-aware?"

"Of course not, you stupid girl! You can't create life, it must be born! If you were to place raw energon into an empty drone it would simply blow out and retire: If you placed the heart of a spy-fly into a driller, then would it live? Don't be so ignorant."

"S-Sorry, doctor."

"Now Recoil, where was I…? Ah yes, mutant sparks. I have been researching the factors of splitting sparks between bodies, to see if life could be shared to help with the fighting progress. Although I have started with brothers and sisters I have been mostly unsuccessful with their development. However, this subject's spark may be the key to what I've been searching for…"

"B-B-But doctor, Lord S-Shockwave said that we should make all attempts to keep him alive! If we do what you say, then he would likely execute us for disobeying his orders."

"Yes, that is a bit of a problem… but if we say that he died during repair operations, he would be none the wiser."

"B-But Lord Shockwave is infamous for detecting lies! His cold brutality is matched only by his divinity to realise who is telling the truth…"

"Hmm… fine then, I will help restore the subject. If he dies, he dies. But Recoil…"

At this, Flatline turned to his assistant with penetrating eyes. She looked down at the ground, trembling.

"If you ever," he said, grabbing her chin and staring into her fearful optics, "Question what I decide to do again, then you will be lying on that table and not our 'Seeker' friend here. Understand?"

Recoil whimpered. "Y-Yes, Doctor Flatline."

* * *

><p><em>The Age of Monsters had only just begun.<em>

_As he lay on that table, fighting for life, the world changed._

_The last Autobot remnants in Tyger Pax were quickly erased and the remainder were forced into hiding. Shockwave was as cunning as he was brutal, committing battle plans based solely on logic and always leading from the frontlines, even if it were just to kill more Autobots._

_I led many of his troops in those early days, for although he never liked anyone, he never hated anyone, his logic censors divining who was a good commander and who wasn't. So Thundercracker, Lacerator and I were his high command._

_But that all changed when __he_ _awoke…_

* * *

><p>The first thing he saw, coming out of his age-old slumber, was a beautiful face.<p>

"Doctor!" the face spoke, although it sounded as if she were underwater, "He is waking!"

"Excellent, it's working," came a familiar reply, "My lord… he is almost awake."

Then everything came rushing toward him.

He saw the ceiling, the instruments of medical science, Recoil, other tables, a bank of screens, a plasma shotgun leaned against a wall, Flatline—

And then something evil and unwholesome blocked his view. He gazed up as if into a mirror, an optic staring down at him. But this cyclopean wore a different eye, this one blood-red. An eye of cold, calm, collective intelligence, a force of power and fear. His body, black as scorched earth; the gleaming red eye staring at Dreadwing, seeming to pierce his very soul.

"How do you feel?" Lord Shockwave asked, no concern or pity in his voice, just asking for the cold details.

"I—Shockwave! Why are you—?"

"I am Lord Shockwave now. Megatron and Starscream have left to retrieve the Allspark and kill Optimus Prime. You, like every other Decepticon, are under my command."

"I-I… yes Lord Shockwave," Dreadwing stared up, fear in his spark, "I am fine, what do you need of me?"

Shockwave leaned back and turned, heading towards the exit of the room. "Meet me at Megatron's War Academy. I do not like waiting."

He left, leaving Dreadwing still lying on the bed. Recoil looked at him, concerned.

"He never was one for small talk," she mused, "Are you alright?"

"I…" Dreadwing struggled to speak, so many questions unanswered, "How much time has passed?"

"Since you were brought here? Several quartexes. Honestly, do you feel any pain at all, in your head or—"

"Starscream! Commander Starscream, is he really gone?" Dreadwing asked frantically, "Did he not wait for me to get better, so that I could join his force…?"

"I…" Recoil remembered that night when a hulking behemoth, accompanied by his commander, had delivered the broken and blasted form of Dreadwing into Flatline's care. The body had been so badly damaged that Recoil had thought it another corpse for Flatline's disturbing experiments.

"He did not care," the black, twisted form of Flatline spoke with a smile, "Indeed, after you had been laid down upon that table, I believe his exact words were 'Let's go Blackout. We should not waste any more time with him.'"

Dreadwing looked at the medic who'd saved his life. "No… he sent me after Megatron and the Allspark, to track them… I was valuable…"

"Valuable?" Flatline roared with laughter, "The only person that whelp Starscream could possibly find valuable would be his own damn clone!"

Dreadwing looked aghast. He felt like he was sinking. The commander he had looked up to had gone without him, probably forgetting him altogether, while the Allspark still hadn't been reclaimed.

"The war… the war still rages?" he asked fearfully.

"That's the only good news on this planet," Recoil smiled falsely, "The Autobots have been forced into hiding thanks to Lord Shockwave's brilliant campaigns. He hasn't lost a single battle yet!"

This had the wrong effect. "The war… it will never end." Dreadwing felt deader than he looked.

Flatline grinned like the madman he was. "As long as there is war, there are corpses. As I'm in the business of corpses, business is good."

Recoil frowned behind Flatline's back. "Cheer up," she told Dreadwing with another false smile, "Megatron will eventually return with the Allspark, and this world will be returned back to its old beauty. Anyhow, if you're fine, I suggest you meet with Lord Shockwave. Don't be late or he'll execute you!"

Dreadwing shakily got off the table, walking past the disturbing doctor and his poor assistant. His servos whirred, his legs weak from the lack of use. As he walked out the hospital, he entered the city of Trypticon.

The Decepticon Capital.

On the planet of eternal night.

* * *

><p><em>What was he thinking on that night? That night when he finally left the hospital to meet with the only creature who would like him on that planet.<em>

_Was he despairing at all that had happened around him?_

_Was he angry at having been forgotten by the warrior he had looked up to?_

_Was he confused about why his lord wanted to meet with him?_

_Or was he hopeful… hopeful about what he could do to help his dying planet?_

_I do not know, and honestly, I do not care either. I only tell this tale for one reason: Despite being forgotten by every last cybertronian in the galaxy, the truth is… he needed to be remembered. Not for the things that he did, but the things that he stood for._

_Heh… what a load of scrap. Maybe I'm just telling this tale because I respected him. Respected him more than Ramjet or Skywarp or Lacerator. Because, despite the losses and the humiliations, he never gave up._

_And that is worth respecting._

* * *

><p>On a cliff, many miles from the outer wall of Trypticon, a cybertronian drove to the top so that he could look at the gleaming city that seemed so close, yet so far.<p>

When he reached the top, he transformed before kneeling, looking at his home, a beacon in the pitch-black wasteland.

A few minutes later, he was joined by another cybertronian, who also drove to the top of the ridge and transformed. He stood above the kneeling cybertronian, his squat form swaying slightly.

"I hate this," the first cybertronian muttered.

"What a surprise!" cried the second, whose laugh sounded like a bark, "Never pegged you for a complainer Crankcase!"

"Cut the sarcasm, shorty," Crankcase replied irritably, "Every day's just like this…"

"Okay," the other sighed, "What's put you in this mood?"

"The night. It's just too damn cold, Mixmaster!" Crankcase moaned, "The chill washes through you like a knife while the night forces you to peer through clouds of eternal blackness."

"Oh, what an artist with words you are!" Mixmaster laughed, "You should become a poet Crankcase, if I knew you wouldn't complain about not finding your muse!"

"I just get a little emotional up here," Crankcase sighed, "After a hard day's work in the mines… the air up here wafts across my metal like a snake… there I go again. Why are you here lieutenant? I thought you'd be locked in your lab, concocting up a new explosive?"

"I followed you," Mixmaster replied, scratching his shields for no other reason than it was something to do, "Because I'm a creepy guy."

"Right. You know, I still don't understand why you don't just pull rank and get me an easy job in your lab. It can't be much worse than the mines!"

"Two reasons, for the thousandth time," Mixmaster sat down beside his oldest friend and looked out at the huge city in the distance, "First, your safety. Truth be told, you're a crap worker who does nothing but complain and sits on his rump all day. So you'd be useless in my lab. Which is the place where my past three assistants have gone back to Burthov in boxes. Second, Stockade. Your crabby officer won't let loose a single one of his 'hard-working' miners. Being the bastard that he is, Stockade wouldn't let a fly go if he thought it would help him. As we are of the same rank, I can't do anything about it."

"You're useless!" Crankcase moaned, "And what's more I don't even understand why a lieutenant and one of the greatest scientific minds in the Decepticon army who helped forge Lord Shockwave's own AstroMag Cannon and all around sadistic prick would even be friends with a common grunt like me."

Mixmaster smiled, a feat that was rare outside of him witnessing an explosion. "Because your complaining amuses me. I guess I'm just a good listener."

They stared at the grand city in the distance, the wind blowing through the night.

"Race you down!" Crankcase suddenly leapt up, transformed and shot down the cliff.

In response, Mixmaster placed his shields in front of him, before leaping off the cliff, riding down the almost sheer slope on his shields.

* * *

><p>The street was almost empty.<p>

The darkness enveloped the unlit avenue, a night that had lasted for years uncountable. Doors were shut, locked. Windows were closed, barred. Houses were grim, silent. Their denizens trembled, fearing. Fearing the towering construct in the centre of the city, a construct so massive and imposing that it forced those to submit to its icon. A tower that bore the face of Megatron and was now the lair of his terrifying successor, Shockwave. Whether the city was submissive to the large metal statue of Megatron's face on the war academy or whether it was submissive to the unmatched power of Lord Shockwave, was a question best left unasked.

The street was almost empty.

Almost.

A maiden, a hatchery worker, led a small group of hatchlings down the street, her comforting figure keeping the children calm in the dark. None of the little ones liked the dark.

"Maiden Moongleam," one of the hatchlings called out, "Where are we going?"

The young maiden turned her head, smiling, knowing that you should always look happy for the starving little ones. "I'm going to show you the most important aspects of our city and our culture. These will be incredibly important in your education."

As she led them down the street, she saw a figure pacing towards them. Realising it was a drone, she turned her hatchlings around and pointed up at Megatron's War Academy. She knew that picking a side was all that mattered in war.

"Now, hatchlings, do you see that face on the side of that building? That is Megatron. He is our guardian and protector, who is fearlessly attempting to rescue our beloved Allspark from beyond the stars, which was sent there by the most foul and hated Optimus Prime."

"Maiden," a hatchling said fearfully, "He looks scary."

Noticing the drone was close, the smile almost slipped from Moongleam's face.

"Now Arctus, you must never _ever _say anything like that again. You should never judge a person by how they look, only by what they do. And those who defend Cybertron are the greatest of our race."

The drone had reached them and looked at the hatchlings. The young ones stared up in awe at the faceless machine. Knowing that drones had no emotions and would only speak when spoken to, Moongleam told her contingent of small cybertronians what she knew of them.

"Now hatchlings, this is a drone. Drones are guardians of our race, our future and our planet—"

"I am not a drone," the faceless one spoke with anger.

Moongleam, shocked at the response, gasped. "Who-Who are you?" she asked, stunned.

"My name is Dreadwing. I am a Decepticon soldier under the direct orders of Lord Shockwave himself."

To the hatchlings and Dreadwing's surprise, Moongleam fell to her knees.

"Forgive my impudence, loyal warrior Dreadwing," she begged, "I was ignorant and unaware of you and your lord and I humbly beg your pardon and forgiveness. At least, spare the hatchlings."

"Get up," Dreadwing ordered, more embarrassed then irritated by the maiden's near-hysterical apology.

When she got up, Moongleam immediately asked to move on. She wanted to be out of there as quick as possible.

"Wait," Dreadwing told her, "Are you teaching these hatchlings the good of the Decepticon cause?"

"Of course, master Dreadwing. Nothing but the true and beautiful Decepticon cause is what these young ones will learn."

"Excellent," Dreadwing said, satisfied with the maiden's loyalty, "Now where do you wish to go next?"

"We were planning on a trip to barracks in the Bocras district. The hatchlings deserve to know who protects them throughout these long days and nights."

Dreadwing looked down at the hatchlings, who looked up with wonder on their little faces.

_They look up to me..._

"Just one endless night…" he mused

"Pardon?"

"What? Oh, nothing. Anyhow, I will be glad to take you to the barracks at Bocras, if you'll just take my hand."

Moongleam bowed her head. "Thank you for your kind offer master Dreadwing, but you do not need to spend your time simply escorting us. We must not distract you from your orders, whatever they may be."

"Don't worry," Dreadwing wished he could've smiled, but without a face, he had trouble simply conveying emotion, "It will take less than a minute. I promise."

The maiden hesitated a second before taking Dreadwing's outstretched hand.

"Tell the young ones to hold on to each other."

Moongleam told the hatchlings, who stared up with curious and wondrous optics.

"Now," Dreadwing said, hoping to sound confident, unsure if his old technology still worked, "Hold on tight!"

And then they all disappeared in a flash of purple light.

* * *

><p>"Remind me why I'm coming along with losers like you?" Stormslayer spat as they flew across Cybertron's blasted plains.<p>

Divebomb led Stormslayer and Skywarp across the wasteland, the two bored Seekers trying to keep up with the eager and excited one. Being downwind of Divebomb, they smelled the results of his turbulent reactor core. Plus, the winter was coming and a cold bite was in the air that they flew through at supersonic speeds.

Suffice to say, they were not enjoying the trip.

"You know, I'm getting bored as well," Skywarp said irritably, "This better be worth it Divebomb, or I'm going to take your disgusting reactor and shove it down your throat."

"We're almost there," Divebomb yipped happily, "And it will definitely be worth it. Although we'd better change now."

"Oh whoopee," Stormslayer droned sarcastically, "And now flying, the only kind of joy I've been getting out of this journey, is being erased as well."

"We need to sneak up on them," Divebomb spoke cunningly, knowing now their curiosity would get the better of them.

They transformed and landed silently, stalking across the wastes, arms ending in cannons or bladed weapons.

"Just a few more kliks," Divebomb assured as they walked, the three powerful Decepticons silhouetted in the night.

When Divebomb slipped into a crouch, the other two followed, heading up a ridge. When they reached the top, they peered over.

It was a small cluster of buildings, no different from any other tiny settlement that had been formed in the aftermath of battles where civilians had lost their homes and their families. Indeed, there was some milling about by a bunch of different cybertronians, all working hard to live one day more.

But then something became apparent, something that wasn't clear at first but gradually came to the light the more you concentrated.

They were working together.

They were all part of a machine, each one performing a different task, all contributing to the settlement as a whole. This was very unusual, as tiny settlements like these were rarely organised or hard-working, never lasting too long. But with the exception of the fact it was as organised as an anthill, there was nothing different about this shabby community.

"And what is it that has fascinated you so much Divebomb?" Stormslayer sighed, "If you've brought me all the way out here just to show that they're organised, I'm breaking your spine."

"No, because this is the thing right," Divebomb whispered, "When I flew over this place a couple of solar-cycles ago on an aerial patrol, I saw a bunch of artillery missiles being moved around! As soon as they saw me, they ran into their little houses."

"So… what?"

"Don't you get it?" Divebomb hissed angrily, "These must be Autobots!"

"Autobots?" Stormslayer laughed, "You dragged me and Skywarp all the way out here because you think you saw some missiles and the local population were scared of a Decepticon Seeker? Why didn't you just report this to Thundercracker?"

"And have that fool take all my—our glory?" Divebomb frowned, "Come on, I swear these guys are the real deal! We go down there, blow them up and take them by surprise."

"You're insane Divebomb," Stormslayer sighed, "To think that Autobots would set up shop so close to Trypticon. They're on the other side of the planet you fragging idiot!"

"So I assume you're not joining me?"

"Damn right I'm not," Stormslayer huffed, and began walking back the way they came, "You can blow up the poor pieces of scrap if you want, but I'm not wasting my time or energy on civilians."

As Stormslayer disappeared into the night, Divebomb turned to Skywarp.

"Come on," he almost pleaded, "I swear these guys are Autobots!"

Skywarp sighed before nodding. "Well, seeing as I'm out here, I might as well enjoy myself."

"Excellent." Divebomb's face lit up.

"But we're not going to attack them."

"?"

"First, we're going to introduce ourselves."

* * *

><p>In the quiet little hamlet, in one of the locked houses, shrouded in shadow, voices whispered in the dark.<p>

"'Lita, we need to move. They're bound to know we're here now. Plus, I believe I've met him before."

"Met him? Met him how Nightslayer?"

"Back in Simfur, when the Allspark was sent into space, we duelled that night. He was a good enough fighter to hold me until reinforcements came to back him up."

"Name?"

"I don't know. But there was one thing that was unique about him…"

"Yes?"

"He stank. Honestly we'd smell him before we'd see him."

"Good to know—"

Someone pounded at the door.

"Elita-One, Nightslayer! Decepticons are here. They're walking towards us!"

"I told you—!"

"No time for that. You stay hidden, I'll meet with them. I can bluff my way through…"

"I highly doubt it, but I'll stay in the shadows until you return."

And then Elita-One walked out the house, and turned to greet her enemies.

* * *

><p>With another haze of purple, Dreadwing, Moongleam and the hatchlings reappeared outside the barracks at Bocras, a district on the west side of Trypticon. The maiden and the young ones were stunned, this feat of technology beyond what any of them had ever known.<p>

"B-B-But h-how?" Moongleam gasped, looking around her.

"Warping," replied Dreadwing with pride, "Or more accurately, teleportation. A unique gift that I was blessed with when my spark was born. I believe I'm only one of ten cybertronians on the whole planet who has this ability."

"By Primus, you are a messenger from Megatron's elite!" the maiden bowed, "You are one of the pinnacle saviours of our race! We thank you so much from the bottom of our sparks, we… we just cannot comprehend what a saviour you are! Young ones, you must thank kind master Dreadwing for what he has shown you today!"

As each of the hatchlings bowed their heads and murmured their thanks, Dreadwing glowed with pride. He looked down at them all and wondered.

_Despite the trials and tribulations set for them by being born in these times, they look to the future, hoping for a better life… when Decepticons like Starscream, Shockwave and I are reduced to nothing but dust, these children of Cybertron will be our descendants. They will carry the torch of Decepticon pride and victory, they will inherit the world we will leave them…_

_So we must make this world the best we can, we must shape and forge it to the paradise that the young deserve... _

And then Dreadwing realised something. A nagging doubt in his head, finally came to light.

_I… I realise now! We can fight for power, glory or unity, but the very essence of our life is to leave behind something that we must be remembered for! Otherwise, what was the point in life? To just survive, wasting away, day by day, that is no life; you can have power, but death comes to all! To be remembered, that is immortality! But… no, I do not care if I may be remembered, only that the actions I perform will be remembered! I must help Cybertron, our dying planet… our past mistakes must be erased and if Megatron or Optimus Prime cannot recover the Allspark, then it must fall to those they have left behind to repair the destruction they have wrought!_

_If Lord Shockwave will help my vision, then I will swear absolute loyalty to him! If not… then I must strike out alone…_

"The stars are beautiful, are they not?"

In his epiphanies, Dreadwing had completely forgotten about the maiden and her hatchlings.

"Pardon?"

"The stars," she smiled, turning her head to stare into the sky, "They remind me of the sun that brought warmth and light to us all… and they remind me of warriors like you, master Dreadwing."

"What do you mean?" Dreadwing asked, fascinated.

"They are sentinels against the darkness of the void; in their multitudes, they fight against the darkness, defenders of the light that we so wish for. You are a defender of the light upon this planet as well. You are… a watcher in the night, keeping order in these times of chaos. So thank you once more master Dreadwing, and goodnight."

But as she turned to lead her hatchlings along their course, Dreadwing called out.

"Wait!"

She turned, a fearful look in her eyes.

Dreadwing stood tall and still. "I swear to you now upon the stars above, that you and your hatchlings will see our sun again."

Although, truthfully, Moongleam knew that the Decepticons were tyrannical overseers, Dreadwing's tone made her stop and stare. His voice… she had not heard such conviction in a long, long time. Indeed, she searched her memories for someone who had put that amount of conviction into what he said. She was stunned when she recalled one person in particular.

Optimus Prime.

Her mouth struggling to close, she simply nodded in understanding and led the hatchlings away.

Dreadwing looked up to the stars.

He would not forget his promise.

He would _never _break it.

Then, in a haze of purple, he winked out of existence.

And the stars shone bright over Cybertron.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, a few miles from Trypticon…<p>

"My, my, what a scenic little place this is," Skywarp snarled, claws flexing, "Seems almost _too_ perfect."

The villagers stared at the two Seekers with cold, hard optics. As per the Decepticon's orders, they had all been forced to stand in front of their homes while Divebomb inspected them. Skywarp meanwhile, inspected the locals.

"We have no weapons here," one of the villagers said gruffly.

Skywarp rounded on him, red eyes filled with menace. "And who asked you?" he spat, inches away from the villager's face, "You know, the energon mines at Simfur could always use more slaves. Did I hear you volunteer?"

The villager looked down, humbled.

"I thought not." Skywarp rounded on the other cybertronians, his optics summing them up in quick glances. Eventually, someone decided to actually approach him.

It was a young female. Thin, but sure of pace and purpose, she strode without a hint of fear or worry. She was controlled, with strength of will.

"What are you doing here?" she fumed, staring Skywarp in the eye, even though he was a few metres taller.

"We are conducting a routine inspection," Skywarp smiled without amusement, "And I did not hear you address me properly."

"Well if I knew your name, that might help," she replied sarcastically, "And mine's Elita. Thanks for asking."

Skywarp struck her across the face, sending her sprawling to the ground. She looked up, hatred in her eyes and fury in Skywarp's.

"My name is Skywarp, slag!" he snarled with anger, "Do not forget it! Do not forget me!"

"Hey," one of the other villagers said, approaching Skywarp, "Calm down 'con! Where's your sense of humour?"

"Oh, I have a sense of humour," Skywarp smiled sadistically. His left arm twisted and folded, forming a cannon. He then shot the villager in the chest, who sprawled to the ground, his torso smoking. "Now, you see, I find that _funny_."

Hearing the commotion, Divebomb came out of a house, repulsing the nearby villagers. When he saw it was simply Skywarp being Skywarp, he moved towards the opposite end of the village, annoyance clear on his face. Elita-One closed her odour receptors as he passed, her eyes never leaving Skywarp.

"You know Divebomb," Skywarp snarled, "I'm getting rather bored here."

"I saw the missiles around here," Divebomb spat back, "Near this house."

Elita-One felt her spark jump, knowing that Nightslayer was hiding behind the very door Divebomb was pointing at.

And, although Divebomb was as oblivious as a fly, Skywarp started to notice something, though he didn't make a show of it. Out of the corner of his optic, he saw the villagers making worried glances at Elita-One and the house. And though Skywarp was evil, he was not stupid.

He quickly realised that Elita-One was an Autobot.

Three emotions hit him: Satisfaction, for he had divined this by himself, annoyance, because Divebomb had been right, and curiosity, for he knew that Elita would not be working alone and wondered just how many of the feeble Autobots were in the village.

As Divebomb approached the house that hid Nightslayer, Skywarp began to employ his low sense of cunning.

Making a show of grabbing Elita-One by the neck, he spun around to face the rest of the villagers. They looked down, trying to not make eye-contact.

Skywarp smiled slowly, a grin that only appeared when he was thinking dark thoughts.

"Yes…" he whispered menacingly, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I do have a sense of humour. I find it funny, you see…"

As he dragged the struggling Elita-One through the debris, his eyes shone with glee.

"Because I know this story… a story of hypocrisy, heresy and humour. Once upon a time, there was a cybertronian who claimed to be of good intent and equal rights. A cybertronian who filled others with hopes and dreams… and lies. He spun a web of deceit, treating everyone else as slaves, like any self-respecting Decepticon would. But do you know what his name was?"

They kept their heads bowed.

"His name was Optimus Prime."

"Liar!" Elita-One cried out. Skywarp tightened his grip.

"He claimed to fight for the weak and the enslaved. Now, I know for a fact that I'm evil. Deal with it. But I've never claimed to be anything else, unlike that charlatan. Despite his many claims and many promises what did he do? Why, he flung the Allspark into the void. Taking our most beloved artefact from its place at the temple in Simfur, he sent our beautiful and life-giving sun away from us as well. But do remember, he _fought for you all_." Skywarp smiled.

"And, shockingly, there are still some who believe in him. They're called Autobots."

They were all trembling with fear. One of them let out a small sob.

"And do you know why this is funny? Because some people _hide _the Autobots from people like _us_."

Deciding to bluff a bit, Skywarp continued; "So now, I would like you each in turn to tell me what I have in my grasp."

Divebomb had not gone in Elita's house yet, entranced by Skywarp's performance as well.

"YOU!" Skywarp roared, grabbing a villager by the neck with his other hand, "Tell me… what have I in my grasp?"

The villager shook, but managed to get out two words.

"E-Elita-One."

Skywarp let go of the villager and kicked him to the ground. With Elita gasping in his hand, Skywarp stomped on the villager again and again and again. With each drop of his foot, metal crunched and grinded, vital fluid leaking out of the local's head. As circuits snapped and optics popped out of their sockets, Elita-One tried to ignore the villager's screams.

When the villager had finally fallen silent, Skywarp turned to the terrified locals.

"DO YOU THINK ME A FOOL? I, Skywarp, am one of the elite Seekers who patrol the skies of Cybertron, who hunts down fools like Prime and his disciples, who tramples them underfoot and crushes them in my grasp!"

He approached another villager, this one shaking like a leaf. He grabbed him by the throat as well.

"Now," Skywarp spoke calmly, sounding all the more horrifying for it, "What have I in my grasp?"

The villager whimpered before nailing the last nail in Elita-One's collective coffin.

"A-An-An A-Autobot."

As Elita-One's vision began to fade, Skywarp crushed the throat of the villager and snapped his neck.

"There," he whispered, malice dripping from his smile, "Was that so hard?"

"Now tell me…" he hissed, staring into Elita's optics, "Are there any other 'bots in this village? Because if there are… you may be spared. But if lies pass between your lips, they will be the last words you will ever speak."

Elita-One gazed into the eyes of death and went there willingly.

"Screw you," she spat, lubricant splashing across Skywarp's face, "I may die tonight, but you will not outlive this meta-cycle! We will rise up and reduce monsters like you to puddles of slag!"

But just as Skywarp was about to snap her neck, the house Divebomb was about to enter exploded.

Nightslayer roared out of the flames, battle scythe in hands, swinging like a mad-man.

Divebomb activated the burners on his back, sending him high into the sky, dodging the scythe by millimetres. But Nightslayer did not stop, charging at Skywarp, fury in his eyes and a battle-cry on his lips.

Skywarp dropped his defenceless prisoner and turned to face the new threat, a grin stretching across his hideous face.

"Come then!" he roared, "I have yet to have a challenge in ages! Bring your all, Autobot scum!"

Charging at each other, Nightslayer and Skywarp crashed together in a whirlwind of fists, claws and weapons. Nightslayer's scythe was quickly discarded, falling back to fists and knives. Skywarp laughed, his claws slicing and cutting, using his jets to gain added thrust and momentum.

It quickly became apparent that Nightslayer was completely outmatched by the Seeker.

And then Divebomb landed to join the battle.

"Elita!" Nightslayer cried, "You must run! We cannot win this! You must flee!"

"NO!" Elita-One cried out, "I will not abandon you! I will not give up!"

As Skywarp got in a good hit on Nightslayer's abdomen, he gasped.

"I have no family and not enough friends for a funeral," he smiled, "You know where your sister hides…"

"No…" Elita-One whispered.

"YES!" Nightslayer roared, as three of his fingers snapped, "This is my last battle, but it is not yours! You must survive! You were one of Optimus's oldest friends, one of his most trusted lieutenants! You must lead the last of our kind, the last who fight for freedom…"

Although she hesitated, Elita-One knew he was right. She was a leader and he was a warrior. There was no need to die here, to just waste one's life.

She ran to the east, transforming as she did, zooming across the wastes of Cybertron.

As one of Nightslayer's legs was blown off, she was already many miles into the wastelands.

* * *

><p>Nightslayer stared up at Skywarp. Missing both his legs and an arm, with the other hanging useless, he knew it was all over.<p>

"Would you care to do the honours, Divebomb?" Skywarp panted, exhausted from the battle.

"My pleasure," Divebomb snarled, grabbing Nightslayer by the neck, "Do you remember me, Autobot? I chased you through the streets of Simfur and fought you upon a skyscraper. You would have bested me there, if it weren't for your cowardice. You should have continued running."

"I-I re-remember you," Nightslayer gasped with pain, "Y-You stink like an organic!"

As a laser folded onto Divebomb's arm, one of Nightslayer's optics failed.

And when Divebomb aimed and fired, Nightslayer's head exploded, his body slumping to the ground.

"What now?" Divebomb asked, looking at the villagers who huddled on the ground in fright.

Skywarp studied the terrified villagers for a moment before smiling.

"Lessons can only be learned if they are taught. And I'm sure these people have learned their lesson."

His smile grew to a malevolent grin.

"But other villagers haven't learned this lesson. So we must teach them."

Skywarp stared at the terrified civilians, with madness in his eyes.

"Burn it. Burn them all."

* * *

><p>Dreadwing looked Megatron in the eye.<p>

The wall-bound statue of the Decepticon leader's face sent a shiver down Dreadwing's spine. Somehow, his face managed to leer, to fill itself with rage and fury, a complete mask of hate. But as Megatron stared down at him, Dreadwing began to relax.

_He is gone… long gone…_

As Dreadwing walked into the war academy, he took his time to gaze around him, remembering the one time he had been here.

_We were led here once, when Starscream used us like trophies, telling Lord Megatron that he had gathered the greatest warriors under the seven moons to serve under his command. Back then, our sparks were filled with pride and our minds filled with ambition. We wanted nothing more than to prove our worth, prove we were strong enough and smart enough to be considered the elite of our race. But I remember now… Megatron barely took heed of us and I realise now that Starscream only used us to further his position with our old leader._

_And what now? The Seekers are broken up, scattered across the planet, and Starscream and Megatron are long gone. And something tells me they will not be coming back…_

_And now the new order is here. Shockwave rules, with none to stand against him while the Autobots flee like cretin. It is almost perfect: the foolishness of Megatron and the lying nature of Starscream are gone and our planet is stable. Our planet is in order, without any of the chaos that preceded. It is almost perfect._

_But…_

_It is still not enough. People starve in the streets, despite the turnout of energon we try to raise from under the surface. They do not have the energy or the will to work, despite the power we hold over them. And it is the people that matter, otherwise the power is pointless._

_We need our sun back—_

"Why, if it isn't his majesty gracing us with his presence!"

Dreadwing spun around, but no-one was there.

"You look old Dreadwing…"

Dreadwing looked to the rafters and the shadows that loomed around the pillars that held up the high roof. But he could not see who was addressing him.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Show yourself!" Dreadwing shouted.

The darkness seemed to intensify.

"Twisted shadow; watch your back."

Dreadwing spun around again, this time finding the speaker.

He was very similar to Dreadwing, similar in build and shape, an aerial cone-head. But this one had a face, filled with cunning and deceit, and eyes that blazed with heated ambition. As red eyes stared at him, Dreadwing remembered who he was facing.

"Ramjet," he spoke, giving nothing away.

"So you do remember the past," Ramjet smiled without warmth, "And those who helped you in it."

Ramjet had been one of the more troubling Seekers. Although he was much easier to get on with than Divebomb or Skywarp, he was not what you would call a friend. He would always glance at you with an unsettling look, as if planning when to stab you in the back. His strange actions were overlooked though, thanks to his merciless battle style. Although no-one was sure what he thought of other Decepticons, he absolutely hated the Autobots.

But to Dreadwing, Ramjet was just another mad, power-hungry, Decepticon.

"Move aside Ramjet," Dreadwing ordered, "I have a meeting with Lord Shockwave."

"Oh yes, I know," Ramjet replied, "I heard. I also heard that you were brought down by a minefield."

Dreadwing frowned, unsure of what Ramjet was insinuating.

"Well, I got better—"

"But I also heard you were taken down by an Autobot drone," Ramjet smiled, "Or was it cybertronian tiger? Stories vary, as do the facts."

"I do not care of what you heard, or what you believe," Dreadwing said angrily, "Now move aside."

Ramjet smiled, but moved to the side, allowing his fellow Seeker to pass.

But as Dreadwing walked past him, Ramjet let out a warning.

"Lord Shockwave keeps some strange company," Ramjet spoke creepily, "One's a sociopath, one's a psychopath, one's a sycophant and one is just plain creepy. But I'll let you decide which is which. Pray you don't end up joining them, because there are enough as it is."

"You're right," Dreadwing turned, looking Ramjet in the optic, "We have too many creeps around here."

Ramjet frowned and watched as Dreadwing reached the elevator, before riding it to the top.

* * *

><p>"You know," Incinerator grumbled, "I haven't burned anyone in a while."<p>

He, Sixshot and Vortex rested in a watchtower that looked over the ruins of Metrotitan, a city close to the east of old Simfur. The city had been levelled a long time ago in an Autobot trap, but that didn't stop nomads and Autobot stragglers hiding out in the fallen skyscrapers. So they watched over it all.

"Yes, we were well aware of that," Vortex grumbled back, staring down the scope of his rifle over the fallen city, "You've told us many times before how rusty your flamethrowers are."

"I just want them to attack!" Incinerator moaned, "I'm begging just for one cocky Autobot to sling a grenade at us!"

"Be careful what you wish for," Sixshot responded from where he was cleaning his pistols, "Because you might just get it."

"Well good!" Incinerator cried, "I wouldn't care if they outnumbered us or outgunned us, I just want to burn someone before my servos rust away!"

Vortex spotted a figure through his scope, picking up scrap metal. Pausing a second or two to adjust his scope, he fired. The figure's head exploded.

"How many is that now?" Incinerator asked, just to relieve the boredom.

"Five squatters, two corpse robbers, four nomads, two hatchlings and one possible Decepticon."

"Why did you shoot if you thought he was on our side?" Sixshot asked.

"I think it was Overkill. Never liked the scum."

"You're an idiot!" Incinerator laughed, "Overkill left on Soundwave's _Nemesis_! You know, with Fracture and the rest!"

"Oh yeah," Vortex said, "With the Constructicons: Long Haul, Scrapper, Bonecrusher, Grindor—"

"No," Sixshot corrected, "Bonecrusher left on Starscream's _Nemesis_. I remember… he didn't look too happy."

"Yeah, well old Bonesy never was the happiest guy," Incinerator smiled, "Now there's a guy I could get along with; he only wanted to kill the Autobots."

"Then why don't you like Lord Shockwave?" Vortex asked.

"He never seems to be happy about it. That's what I don't get about the guy: Why do something if you get no pleasure out of it?"

"Because," Sixshot muttered as he chewed on a piece of scrap, "Some of us fight for something more fulfilling."

Incinerator grunted. "I can't think of anything more fulfilling then your enemy's agonised screams."

"You know Incinerator, with that kind of life-plan, I doubt you'll survive very long."

Incinerator stood up at that. "What you saying Sixshot?" he asked angrily, "You saying I'm dumb? You want me to break your neck?"

"If you wish to fight me, and then lose, just to relieve your boredom; that's fine by me."

As Sixshot stopped cleaning his pistols and accepted the challenge, a boom echoed in the distance.

They all stood silent. They waited.

"What was that?" Incinerator asked.

"Shhhh!" Vortex hushed.

A low whistling could be heard.

As Incinerator and Vortex wondered at the sound, Sixshot picked up his pistols.

"I believe gentlemen," he said slowly, spitting out the piece of metal in his mouth, "It's time to jump."

And with that, they leapt out of the watchtower.

As they fell, it exploded, the flames licking their back, more mortar shots flying through the air.

And clouds gathered overhead.

* * *

><p>Having run out of the energy necessary to continue in her alternate guise, Elita-One walked through the empty wasteland. Her loneliness was drowned out by her lowered temperature.<p>

Winter had arrived.

As snow began to fall around her, she felt nothing but sorrow for the death of one of her closest friends. She also was sorrowful for his meaningless sacrifice; what was the point in dying, if she was going to freeze out here?

_It was stupid of us to hide out so close to Trypticon… but there are no patrols so close to the Decepticon capital. It was just blind luck that that stupid Seeker flew over us._

Her thoughts were drawn away from sorrow, to hate.

_Skywarp… no, I will not forget your name. I will remember you. And the next time we meet, the barrel of my gun will be the last thing _you'll_ remember._

_But… what he said of Optimus…_

Despite Elita's constant denial, she knew that there was truth in the creep's words.

_Optimus… Optimus has made mistakes in the past, I know this. I may never forgive him for when he tricked me… even if it was for my benefit. But did he really have to send the Allspark into space? It has been so long without a sun… without hope… without a future._

_Why is it, when we fight for the weak and the doomed, do we lose out? Where is the good in our race? Where is justice? Why do the psychotic and the sadistic rule over us, while the good are killed or enslaved? Why us? Why did the last Prime, the one who could have led us out of this black abyss, abandon us when our need was most urgent?_

Elita-One fell to her knees, her energy almost depleted, about to go into stasis-lock.

She looked up to the sky.

_The stars…_

_They shine in their multitudes…_

_Maybe that is it; we are stars. Though we number few in the jet-black, we forever shine our eternal glow in the darkest of nights. Though we may eventually wither and die, another will always take our place. We will fight to keep the darkness from consuming us all and we will fight for what we know is right! I have never doubted, never swayed from the path I have chosen, and I will not sway now!_

_Optimus, wherever you are among the stars, my life is at an end. But you must continue, even if every last Autobot on this planet dies at the hands of injustice! You are the last in a long line of stars who shined the brightest, who never gave up hope, who never wavered in their conviction of what is right!_

_But now I must rest… it is so cold and the night so long…_

She curled up on the blanket of snow.

_What you did was right Optimus; if Megatron had obtained the Allspark, every last creature in the cosmos would be enslaved or destroyed. If evil were to have the power of the cube, then no-one would be safe from the clutches of tyranny…_

_It is so cold…_

_I must rest…_

_Rest…_

* * *

><p>When Sixshot's vision finally returned, he found the barrel of a gun in his mouth. In surprise, he inhaled and found his throat filled with smoke. He realised that the barrel was all that was left, the rest of the gun having been lost in the rubble.<p>

As shells fell around him and the street exploded, he stood up, noticing that, as strange as it was, the smoke that travelled up and down his vocal processor seemed to calm him.

He noticed the end of the short barrel was lit. He sucked on it again, liking how the smoke filled his chest with warmth.

Vortex struggled out the rubble beside him, trying to drag his rifle with him. Coughing out some of the rubble in his mouth, he gazed around him. A shell fell a few metres away, throwing up fire and steel, causing Vortex to leap back into the debris for cover.

Sixshot glanced down at him, the short cylinder in his mouth smoking from one end.

"What are you doing you fool?" Vortex shouted, "Get into cover!"

Sixshot gave him a quizzical look.

"Why? If a shell lands on me, then I'm dead. If a shell lands on you, then you'll be dead. Getting into cover doesn't change that."

The shelling stopped.

All was silent for a second.

Then a furious battle-cry sounded out across the city.

"They're attacking!" Vortex cried, "How many do you think there are?"

Sixshot shrugged and smoked. "Sounds like they're coming from the east."

"Hang on," Vortex looked around, "Where's Incinera—"

As if on cue, the psychotic arsonist leapt out of the rubble, yelling as he did so. When he landed, he looked around at Sixshot and Vortex.

"The enemy?" Incinerator cried with glee, "Where do they approach from?"

"Err," Vortex said, carefully looking at Incinerator, "I think they're charging from the east. So we should head west—"

"Screw retreating, I wanna live!" Incinerator roared, before running off in the direction of the hundreds-strong Autobot force.

"YEEHAW!" he whooped, "IT'S TIME TO BURN AUTOBOTS! PREPARE TO MEET YOUR MAKER! BURRRRRNNNNNNN! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Sixshot and Vortex watched him go, leaping and lighting as he charged.

"I said he wouldn't live very long…"

"Screw him," Vortex dismissed, "I'm getting out of here. You coming?"

Sixshot sighed and let the smoking cylinder drop out of his mouth, grinding it underfoot.

"I think I'll stay. Someone needs to record their movements and numbers, so it might as well be me. You need to take the message back to Trypticon; the Autobots are attacking our garrison in the ruins of Metrotitan."

Vortex nodded and folded in on himself, driving down the street, opposite of where Incinerator raced to.

Sixshot simply sighed again and walked into the shadows, waiting for the Autobots to pass by.

* * *

><p>Dreadwing stepped out of the elevator into the command room.<p>

Four figures stood around an elevated throne, while one sat upon it.

Seven eyes glared at him.

The person to the right of the throne was the colour of tar, an average sized 'con who held a long, metal whip. Judging by the wires that ran through the whip, Dreadwing guessed it could be electrified. But the 'con who held it looked more dangerous than the weapon itself, an ugly, brutish face with way too many teeth, he looked ready to tear Dreadwing apart if he even looked at him wrong.

On the throne itself sat Lord Shockwave. His red eye was trained upon Dreadwing like how a cat watches a mouse before pouncing. The AstroMag Cannon Shockwave had for a right arm was humming, as if ready to explode into action and wipe anyone off the planet in a single second. His black and twisted form had seen many battles and crushed many lives. He was a 'con without mercy and without pity. At that moment, Dreadwing realised that he might never leave this room alive.

The figure to the left of the throne seemed the most calm, but strangely enough, the most menacing. He had his arms crossed and showed no weapons but Dreadwing had the feeling that he did not need them. His light-grey form exuded confidence and a mouth-plate covered half his face. But the red eyes were there, and they seemed to look through Dreadwing, right into his very spark. Out of all the figures in the room, Dreadwing found himself scared of only this one.

To the grey Decepticon's right stood a figure Dreadwing recognised. With shock, he realised it was Thundercracker.

The blue Seeker's eyes blazed with fury and his powerful form showed up everyone in the room, bar Shockwave. One of his hands had transformed into a pick-like axe, which he stroked with his other hand, as if he couldn't wait to use it. He breathed with anticipation, just daring for Dreadwing to make any threatening move, just to make his day. Dreadwing had no doubt about what angered the Seeker; if Starscream could have brought anyone on his journey, Thundercracker would have been at the top of the list. The only reason Dreadwing could imagine that Starscream would leave his most loyal lieutenant behind was to lead the Seekers in his absence. By the look of it, he hadn't taken to this job in the most professional of manners.

The last figure in the room was the only one who did not look at Dreadwing, standing at a balcony. He stared out over Trypticon and even from behind, Dreadwing recognised Astrotrain. If Shockwave ever went anywhere, you could expect his loyal lapdog Astrotrain to follow. Although he was a good warrior and could have struck out on his own, the amount of times Shockwave had allegedly saved Astrotrain from death in battle was infamous. Astrotrain held his lord in high esteem and owed him his life ten times over, so Shockwave kept him around. But despite the amount of times he'd been saved, Astrotrain had supposedly killed ten Autobots at Tyger Pax with nothing than a crowbar. And although he was probably the weakest in the room, Dreadwing would sure never want to tangle with Astrotrain.

Dreadwing bowed in the direction of the throne.

"All hail Lord Shockwave."

"No," came the toneless reply from upon the throne, "I will not be hailed. Although my current provision is to rule over Cybertron in Lord Megatron's absence, he is still our leader and is the one who should still be hailed."

"All hail Lord Megatron," Dreadwing corrected.

Shockwave nodded his consent.

"Astrotrain," he spoke, "It is time for introductions. To dream is to waste."

Astrotrain quickly scurried up to his lord, staring at Dreadwing out of cunning eyes.

"I believe you and Thundercracker are old acquaintances," Shockwave addressed Dreadwing, "But you might be unaware of the rest of my high command—"

He pointed at the menacing figure with the whip, "—this is Lacerator; my top overseer and infantry commander."

Lacerator did not even acknowledge Dreadwing. He simply stared all the more maliciously. Dreadwing didn't like the sound of anyone who possessed the rank of 'top overseer'.

Shockwave then pointed to Astrotrain by the throne, "—this is Astrotrain; my second-in-command. If I am unable to present orders on the field of battle or am indisposed at the time, he will be in command."

Astrotrain nodded. Dreadwing nodded back, not willing to piss off the guy with all the power if Shockwave found himself 'indisposed'.

"—and this," Shockwave intoned, indicating the grey, calm Decepticon, "Is my tactical consultant, Onslaught."

* * *

><p><em>When I first looked at him, I almost cried out 'Pathetic!' right there and then. He reminded me of the weedy little hatchling at the back of a class, who stole others possessions when they weren't looking or stabbed them in the back without a second thought.<em>

_I quickly surmised that he was not a good fighter or a good commander, so he must have possessed some innate ability or power that was not on the surface. Which meant he already thought himself above those who didn't have that power. Plus, he looked like a drone and I've never liked nor trusted drones._

_So, on that first night in Shockwave's command centre, I immediately hated him._

* * *

><p>Dreadwing took one look at Onslaught and realised the guy hated him. If Dreadwing had skin, he would have had enough sweat to fill an ocean.<p>

"And I have brought you here Dreadwing," Shockwave continued, unaware or uncaring of the obvious tension in the room, "For your ability to control basic drones better than any commanding officer in the Decepticon army. So I will now promote you to the rank of commander, and leave you in command of the drone army."

It took a few seconds to sink in.

Thundercracker's mouth hung open, Lacerator almost dropped his whip, even more hate in his eyes, Astrotrain looked like a bomb had hit him and Onslaught's arms came down to his side and his fingers flexed with fury. But out of all of them, Dreadwing was the most stunned. He took a step back.

"I-I-I…" he stammered, "But, L-Lord Shockwave, I have not… deserved this promotion!"

For the first time, Shockwave seemed impatient. "I did not ask you if you deserved your new rank or not, I said you are now commander, so you are now commander."

"B-But the drones take up over two-thirds of the Decepticon army! Surely you should leave such a large force for a more experienced and better commander!"

Shockwave just stared at him. Dreadwing found himself becoming much more nervous.

"A-Although I do c-control the drones much b-better than anyone else, I am not wise in the art of war! It would be like giving an aerial squadron to the hands of a hatchling!"

"If you are wise enough to realise that you are not fit for this job," Shockwave spoke with grim authority, "Then you are wise enough to learn how to do this job. If I was misinformed about your prowess over drones, then you will be sacked and possibly executed. So I will ask this only once; will you accept command of the drone army?"

Dreadwing was about to say no, to say that he was the wrong 'con for the job, that Astrotrain or Thundercracker were much better suited for command, that he would just rather fight at the front lines against the remaining Autobots.

But then he stole a glance out of the balcony.

And saw the stars.

_This is my chance… this is destiny. To change things from a position of power, to influence Cybertron's future… yes, it must be destiny! Out of all those drone units that fought in the fields of Kentavr, I was the one who gained sentience! I have been chosen by Cybertron, to protect her from all threats, external and internal! This is fate, so I must not falter! By the turning of the cycles, I will return Cybertron to her glory, to her original place as a gem in the sea of stars!_

_This is my chance…_

"Y-Yes, Lord Shockwave! I accept command of the drones!"

Shockwave made no change in his tone. "If you have any problems with tactics or strategy, then you will speak with Onslaught," at this, Shockwave turned and looked at Onslaught in the optics, "And he will teach you."

Onslaught looked as if he was about explode with fury, but much to his credit, said nothing.

"Lord Shockwave," Dreadwing addressed, "May I ask one question?"

"Yes."

"Why me, all of a sudden? Out of nowhere, when I have been in hospital for so many solar-cycles?"

Shockwave studied Dreadwing through a glaring optic. "Because I do not waste time. If I have useful information, then I will use it immediately. You are useful, so I will use you immediately. If you prove you can handle battle, then you will stay on in my higher command. If you can't, your command will be a short and forgetful experience."

As Shockwave continued, Astrotrain's face took a concentrated look. Unheard by anyone else, he was receiving a transmission.

"But let me warn you now Commander Dreadwing," Shockwave intoned, his voice devoid of emotion, "If your loyalty wavers, I will not. If you even hesitate at my orders, I will not. If you beg for mercy, I will not give it. Do you understand?"

Dreadwing bowed his head. "Yes, Lord Shockwave. All hail Megatron."

"Um," Astrotrain mumbled, "Lord Shockwave?"

"Yes?"

"Something's happening in Metrotitan."

* * *

><p>"Skyblast, run rings around the battalion on the far right! Use formation seven!"<p>

"_Yes sir!_"

"Armorhide, move your shock troops through the centre! Break them, damn it!"

"_Affirmative Commander Silverbolt!"_

"Cut the commander scrap," Silverbolt told him back, "First names are fine in the heat of battle."

"_Understood Silverbolt!_"

"Breakaway, do you have the left pinned down?"

"_Not one of the Decepti-creeps will regroup on my watch! We've got them all tangled up!"_

"Affirmative," Silverbolt smiled, "Keep it together Autobots; they've almost broken!"

Silverbolt gazed out from one of the few standing buildings, watching the heated battle rage below him.

_The main Decepticon force is concentrated on the left, though we hold an impeccable position there; Breakaway and Strongarm won't let me down. Chromia and Armorhide are breaking through the centre while our air support is crushing the right. I think I might join them—_

"_Commander Silverbolt! There's a 'con__ with some flame—AAARRRRRGGHHHHHHHHH!"_

"Quasar? Quasar come in!"

"_HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNN AUTOBOTS! HAHAHAHAHAHA!_"

_Seems like I'll be joining them then._

* * *

><p>The APCs drove across the wastes. Hundreds upon hundreds of armoured vehicles drove in orderly convoys, heading to the south-west. Thousands of aircraft flew overhead, drones and Decepticons alike. Four of which in particular were talking animatedly.<p>

"And he made him a commander?" Stormslayer asked, shocked.

"I couldn't believe it myself," Ramjet replied, "At first, I believed it a joke. But Shockwave doesn't tell jokes and certainly doesn't have a sense of humour. I heard it all; Dreadwing is a commander equal to Thundercracker."

"By the Pit…" Skywarp breathed, "How is that fair? We fight battle after battle and war with our lives on the line, and what does he do? He has a nice sleep in hospital, before awakening to get a big promotion."

"He did seem quite reluctant at first," Ramjet remembered, "But after a moment's hesitation he eagerly took Shockwave's gift."

"Maybe old one-eye saw his mirror image in the drone lover," Divebomb joked.

No-one laughed. If any others were listening to their conversation, then Divebomb wouldn't last very long at the hands of Shockwave or his lieutenants.

"Well…" Stormslayer considered, "Perhaps he deserves it."

No-one responded to that either. They were shocked Stormslayer was taking the side of Dreadwing.

"As in, he deserves whatever is coming to him," Stormslayer interpreted, "If this fool thinks he can play with lives on the field of battle, then I eagerly await the day that Shockwave blows him apart."

They did laugh at that.

Meanwhile, in one of the APC's below, Dreadwing studied his hands while Onslaught glared at him.

_This is it… my first battle in ages. And I have a command for this one! But I know nothing of tactics or strategy…_

_NO! This is destiny, this is fate. By the stars, this is what I have been given, so I shall use it! Whatever foe stands in my way, I will vanquish! Whatever obstacle in my path, I will eradicate! And whoever tries to stop me… let them try._

Dreadwing looked up at Onslaught, who glared at him out of menacing optics.

_Err, but it wouldn't help to ask for some advice, would it?_

"Say," Dreadwing tried to sound friendly, "Got any pointers for the battle ahead?"

"Keep your head down, don't get killed," Onslaught replied gruffly.

"Um, I mean about tactics and strat—"

"Listen Deadwing, if you think I'll give you any help in your first battle, you're sorely mistaken. I'll accept your rank, but I will not accept questions, not yet. You're the new hatchling in the hatchery and you'll have to learn how to walk on your own."

Dreadwing tried to match Onslaught's glare, but quickly looked away.

"Fair enough," he mumbled.

* * *

><p>In another APC further up, Shockwave waited in cold silence with Astrotrain and his best troops.<p>

"The numbers, Astrotrain," he spoke without warning.

Astrotrain, as ever, was quick to respond to his master's call. "Although we wouldn't normally get enough intelligence for enemy numbers and such forth, one of the garrison troops slipped behind enemy lines and reported the situation. Around 6,000 Autobots, mainly consisting of drones, are currently battling our garrison of 2,167 Decepticons, 1,803 of which are drones. The scout estimates that the Decepticons will break soon. Their commander is dead."

"This is the Autobot's last gasp," Shockwave stated, knowing without a doubt what he said were the facts, "There is only one objective in this mission of theirs; to kill me."

"My lord?"

"They do not have enough troops to wage a campaign against me, or to hold Metrotitan. But if they eliminate me, then the Decepticon order will be loosened and more civilians would join their cause. This gives them a 73% chance of total victory over us at an unspecified time."

"My lord, you really believe the Decepticons would fall apart without you?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

Astrotrain considered it for a second.

"Lacerator would make a bid for power…" he muttered.

"As would Thundercracker," Shockwave continued, "He would love to have control of Cybertron when Starscream returns. Although Megatron would quickly reel them both in."

Although Astrotrain didn't voice his opinion, he believed that, by now, Megatron wasn't coming back.

"Although I doubt we will catch Silverbolt this time," Shockwave continued.

Astrotrain looked up in surprise. "He has slipped through our grasp many times before my lord, but I'm sure we will catch him tonight."

"That is why I doubt; I will not be commanding the troops tonight."

Astrotrain was shocked. "B-But why not my lord? You have the greatest tactical mind on the planet!"

"Two reasons: One, logically, with the whole Autobot army trying to destroy me, I will be safely away from the battle where I will be able observe it. Two, this will be a chance for Dreadwing to show whether he can command or not."

"You're leaving command of the Decepticon army to Dreadwing?"

"Yes. Do not question me again."

Astrotrain fell silent.

"What was the name of the soldier?"

"Huh?" Astrotrain looked up.

"The soldier who gave us the intelligence on Silverbolt's army," Shockwave replied impatiently, "His name."

"Oh, uh, Sixshot my lord."

"Promote Sixshot to lieutenant. If he is already a lieutenant or a higher rank, promote him one further."

* * *

><p>"Sir, I… I think we've won sir."<p>

Silverbolt surveyed the battlefield. Breakaway had run rings around the left, devastating the Decepticons from elevated positions and kill-zones. Armorhide had broken the centre, although at heavy losses. If there was an attack on the centre, strong as he was, Silverbolt doubted Armorhide could win. But the right was where the real victory lay. Skyblast had destroyed every Decepticon there, his air tactics and formations superb and unbeatable, barely losing any troops in the process. All in all, they had lost 512 Autobots, 109 of those actual sentient troops, the rest drones.

Plus, Silverbolt had personally buried a mad Decepticon arsonist under a mountain of rubble.

The Decepticons had broken and routed, the garrison running for their lives.

Silverbolt smiled.

"So what does this make this?" he asked his lieutenant, "Our first victory in… how many meta-cycles?"

"Twelve sir."

"Well then," Silverbolt grinned, "I'm the first 'bot since Optimus Prime to proclaim Autobot victory!"

All of a sudden, an Autobot ran up to Silverbolt's lieutenant and whispered in his ear.

The lieutenant started to shake.

"Err… sir?"

"What is it lieutenant?" Silverbolt sighed, almost guessing the answer.

"Sir… Shockwave approaches with over 15,000 Decepticons!"

Silverbolt looked back over the city, looking down at the celebrating Autobots, numbering just under 6,000 soldiers.

"Well… he has taken the bait. So it comes to this; in the ruins of this once majestic city, Shockwave must meet his death, or we shall forever be in hiding."

His lieutenant nodded. "We will follow you to the ends of Cybertron sir."

Silverbolt smiled kindly, before gazing into the distance.

"Is this the end?" he wondered aloud, "My life, since the hatchery, all the way to this point, just to die? To lead the warriors who look up to me, to their deaths? We do not fight for petty territory or power; no… we strive toward a larger goal. But will this higher calling lead to our death? Will we fight this battle, and may it be our last…?"

"Sir, if Shockwave is finally paid for the crimes he has committed upon our world, then this will be the last battle for the Decepticons as well. He is a… thing, that should never have been."

Silverbolt looked down at the ground. "He approaches from the north?"

"Yes sir."

"Then prepare to move out."

* * *

><p>Abandoning the vehicles so that they could not be ambushed, 12,000 Decepticon foot soldiers began the march to Metrotitan, just a couple of miles ahead.<p>

Dreadwing hovered over the drones, his jets giving him enough thrust to stay a few metres above his troops.

_His troops…_

_My troops._

They marched in silence, the ground being pounded under their feet, four thousand craft flying overhead. Dreadwing watched them with pride; though they were simply automatons, Dreadwing could _feel _them. His strange connection to them all flowed through him, his circuits filling with energy and their minds and his connecting like bees in a hive.

_In fact, a hive mind is exactly what I would call it; but a hive mind I can control._

"Dreadwing!"

Dreadwing turned to see Ramjet hovering near him.

"It's _Commander _Dreadwing to you." Dreadwing wished he could smirk.

"Sorry, _commander_," Ramjet snarled, "But I didn't catch that memo. Oh, and if you're not too busy posturing, Shockwave requests you at once."

Dreadwing's spark almost burst with pride. He fully transformed and flew in the direction of Shockwave's honour guard.

As he left, Ramjet spat at the ground.

The chemical mixture of gastric acid and lubricant landed on a drone's head.

It did not notice, or did not care, and marched with the rest.

* * *

><p>By the time Dreadwing landed where Shockwave's core was located, they had arrived at Metrotitan.<p>

The ruins loomed in the night, and the edge of the city had become an Autobot barricade. Palisades and trenches were lined across the northern edge, cannons and missile emplacements located wherever Autobots weren't waiting with weapons of their own. In just half a cycle, the northern edge of Metrotitan was a fortress wall.

Dreadwing looked it up and down, hoping his command wouldn't be placed on the frontlines.

"Lord Shockwave, I have arrived."

"Yes," Shockwave replied.

At that moment, Dreadwing noticed the absence of the other commanders.

"Err, my lord? Where are the other commanders?"

"They are not here Commander Dreadwing, because I do not need them. They will not play a part in this battle."

At that moment, Dreadwing realised something was very wrong.

"So…" Dreadwing dared, "Who will?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You."

"Just me?"

"You."

Dreadwing gulped. "So I will be fighting the Autobots by myself?"

"No. You will have command of 4,000 drones, 1,000 soldiers and 500 aerial units. Your objectives are to wipe out the Autobots and retake Metrotitan. I will give you a larger command in future if you manage to eliminate the enemy commander, Silverbolt."

"Silverbolt…" Dreadwing whispered, remembering him as the leader of the Autobot Aerialbots, the elite flyers of their enemies, the opposites of the deadly Decepticon Seekers.

"You must defeat 5,981 heavily entrenched Autobots with the forces I have given you. If you fail, you will be executed. If you do not accept, you will be executed. If you flee, you will be executed. Those are the facts and you cannot change them."

Dreadwing looked up at his lord, his optic pleading without reaction.

_It is just a game to him! If I fail, then the remaining commanders will destroy the Autobots and I will be forgotten…_

"What help can I rely on from the other commanders?" Dreadwing asked desperately.

"You can call in reinforcements from the other commanders. But it is their decision whether or not to accept."

Based on what Dreadwing had observed from the other commanders, he wasn't receiving any help.

Dreadwing looked to the ground, trembling.

Shockwave showed no glee, no anger, no pity and no impatience. He simply stated the truth or what he wanted.

"You best get to your duties, _commander_."

* * *

><p>With the Autobots having moved to the northern edge, Sixshot was free to move about Metrotitan.<p>

He walked through empty shells of what had once been epic architecture. He scrambled down mountains of rubble and piles of debris. He slipped between silhouettes of the twisted corpses of once majestic skyscrapers, and hid in the shadows cast by the tiny pinpricks of light in the sky.

But as he passed a large pile of rubble, it moaned.

He stopped and listened.

The pile moaned again.

One pistol in hand, Sixshot began to dig with his other, pulling the rubble away. As he began to recognise the moans, he used both hands to dig through the debris. When he saw a hand, he pulled.

At that moment, Incinerator pushed upwards, leaping out of the debris.

"WHERE IS HE?" he roared, "Where is the scum that trapped me here?"

"Who?" Sixshot asked calmly.

"A silver flyer! He shot out of nowhere and collapsed a wall on me!"

"That's what you get for taking on the entire Autobot right flank by yourself."

"But I was doing so well! I was up to a hundred pools of Autobot slag!"

"Quit while you're ahead next time."

Incinerator looked about him at the empty street.

"B-But where did the Autobots go?"

"Lord Shockwave has arrived. If we hurry, we can get a good seat to your silver flyer's destruction."

Incinerator grinned.

"You think I'll just sit and watch? I'm attacking the Autobots in the rear! That'll surprise them!"

"No, you won't."

Incinerator looked up at him. "And why not?"

"Because I'm ordering you to take up a position of observation for the upcoming battle."

"You can't order scrap!" Incinerator challenged, "We're of the same rank!"

"Actually, I've just been promoted. I'm a lieutenant now."

"T-That's utter slag!"

"If you follow my orders well enough, then I'll let you join the battle when they start routing towards us."

Incinerator smiled. "Rushing to meet their death then? I'm down with that."

* * *

><p>Dreadwing looked down at his units from atop a ridge.<p>

They all looked up at him.

5,500 soldiers.

It would look small on paper, but with them stretching into across the wasteland, they were much larger in real life.

He tried to calm his nerves, tried to remain tranquil in the face of death. He was going to die, no matter what.

_Not unless you win…_

_How can I win? They have more numbers, better ground and a better commander!_

_They don't know that! They look from the barricades, seeing 16,000 troops under Shockwave's command! They do not realise they only face your 5,500, so use this to your advantage!_

_How?_

_When opportunities appear, take them._

_Oh, whoopee, thanks for your tactical acumen._

_Now stop thinking to yourself and do battle!_

_Hang on…_

Dreadwing quickly selected an aerial drone using his symbiotic connection, who approached his commander silently.

"Drone," Dreadwing ordered, "Go to Commander Thundercracker and request reinforcements."

"Affirmative, Master Dreadwing," replied the drone's monotone voice.

As the drone flew off for Dreadwing's requisition, the commander himself paused to reflect again.

_Will Thundercracker send help? I know that he was once my superior, and he seems bitter on my recent promotion to his equal, but these are the last Autobots on the planet! Surely he would want to participate in this historical event? _

_And what about Lacerator and Onslaught? What will they do when I request help? I have a good idea, and it is something I do not wish to happen…_

A few kliks later the drone appeared in the sky, without anyone following. Dreadwing felt his body go numb.

_He has not helped. The only Decepticon who knew me has not assisted. Does he not realise the stakes? Does he even care if I live, one of Starscream's chosen warriors—hang on! That isn't a drone…_

He was right. Instead of the aerial drone he had sent, someone else had come back.

"Ramjet!" Dreadwing cried with incredulity, "Where's my drone?"

Ramjet gave one of his sickening smiles. "Oh, that piece of tin that you sent to Commander Thundercracker? He tore it in half, sent me back instead to relay this message; 'Ramjet here is worth one hundred of your pathetic little bots, so consider your request putative. Don't ask for any more of my soldiers.' So… do you accept Commander Thundercracker's reinforcements? Namely, me."

Anger built up in Dreadwing. This wasn't a simple denial, this was mockery. The Seekers under Thundercracker's command would be laughing their heads off, laughing at Dreadwing's pathetic plea for more men. Sending Ramjet by himself, just so Thundercracker could hear about Dreadwing's reaction, filled the newly appointed commander with rage.

"Yes," Dreadwing almost snarled, "I do accept his reinforcements. In fact, you Ramjet, will be my aide-de-camp, and relay orders to those who I cannot or will not reach myself."

Ramjet opened his mouth to protest, before realising he would argue with one of Shockwave's chosen commanders. Instead, his face glowed with anger as well.

_Good, _Dreadwing thought, satisfied, _Nothing helps a bad mood better then spreading it around._

He turned back to his awaiting army, the sentient ones beginning to grow impatient.

He looked down at them all. The drones and the Decepticons.

_None of them want to die, but their lives rely on the words that I speak, the orders I give—_

"If you'll stop thinking to yourself for once," Ramjet interrupted irritably, "We have a battle to win, and Lord Shockwave is watching. As your 'aide-de-camp' should I order messengers to Commanders Onslaught and Lacerator for… help?"

Dreadwing noted the sarcasm in his new lieutenant's tone and almost executed him on the spot. But they had served in battle together before, and if bad got to worse, he could always throw the bastard in the way of enemy fire.

"No!" Dreadwing almost shouted with anger, "We won't rely on those pieces of scrap for their charity! We will commit to battle!"

Surprise glanced across Ramjet's face, before remembering his new position.

"So what are your orders… Commander Dreadwing?"

Dreadwing looked over the army. He looked to the barricades in the distance.

"Set up all the drones in three cohorts, each to their own flank, and place our sentient warriors in reserve. Keep our aerial units back here too."

"You wish the drones to lead?" Ramjet asked in surprise, "They are not as strong as our proper warriors—"

"They are stronger then you think," Dreadwing snapped irritably, "So set the drones up in cohorts and give each one a lieutenant to command it."

As Ramjet turned on his holographic communicator to deliver his new commander's orders, Dreadwing looked out to Metrotitan again…

* * *

><p>Silverbolt looked out from a hastily constructed watchtower, watching Dreadwing's troops.<p>

"So they're finally moving…" he muttered.

"Sir," his lieutenant said, "How do you know Shockwave will present himself? He could have just sent a commander in his stead."

"It is in Shockwave's nature to kill; hence, at one point or another, he always arrives at the frontlines to kill us himself. He is neither brave nor stupid; he just can't accept other ways to win. He lives to kill. Such an emotionless creature disgusts me."

"Sir… it looks like he's moving the drones first; they're spreading across the battlefield, intent on fighting us all at the same time."

"Hmm… this is an unusual deployment… Shockwave does not usually rely on drones. That, in my opinion, is his weakest point; he never had a good grasp on how to control drones. They tend to do things any cybertronian wouldn't do: they malfunction, break down and have no survival instinct. Shockwave can manipulate those of our race because he understands emotions and needs. He is just a machine that runs on logic, so illogical things like malfunctions screw up his concentration."

"Either way sir, he does not appear to be at the front line just yet. He is sending only around 5,000 drones to meet us."

"Closer to 4,000 actually," Silverbolt corrected, "So our forces should be able to tear through these easily. I'm surprised he hasn't moved his reserve right flank forward more…"

"Maybe he's just testing our defences."

"Or maybe a screw's finally come loose and he has no idea what he's doing."

* * *

><p>Dreadwing trembled as his troops moved forward. Trembled with both awe for what he had and fear for what he would lose.<p>

"The cohort on the left," Ramjet told him, "Is commanded by Payload; he's a logistical officer. Unfortunately Shockwave didn't give us any experienced lieutenants; I believe he wanted you to make most of the decisions. Lockjaw commands the centre while Stockade commands the right."

Dreadwing looked down at his hands.

"Um," Ramjet looked at Dreadwing carefully, "Dreadwing?"

"The next few cycles could be my last Ramjet," Dreadwing looked at him, "Have you ever felt that before; the feeling that you will almost certainly die? But what's worse, is that… will anyone even care?"

Ramjet stared carefully at his commander. "Honestly… no, no-one would care."

"Exactly," Dreadwing turned to the sky, "So what will I leave behind except jokes among the Seekers? About 'not-so-lucky Dreadwing', the guy who is heavily injured, only to suddenly awake and be awarded a promotion that is as good as posthumous. I would be nothing… I might as well never have existed at all."

"You want my opinion Dreadwing," Ramjet sighed, not really believing he was bailing his commander out of depression already, "Just put up or shut up. If you're going to moan and wail about life, existence or the universe, then just commit suicide already. But if you really want to live, really want to make a difference, then win this fragging battle."

Dreadwing looked at Ramjet, before slowly nodding, accepting Ramjet's opinion.

"Fine then," he frowned.

The two forces looked at each other across the field: The Autobots waiting in their trenches, nervously checking their weapons while the drones stood unmoving, awaiting sentinels of the Decepticon cause.

_Cybertron changes here, for good or for worse, and my life is on the line; the stakes are at their highest, and I must use everything I have to come out the other side._

Dreadwing stood upon a ridge above his Decepticons.

Silverbolt stood upon a fallen skyscraper above his Autobots.

"Let battle commence!" they cried.


	3. The Battle Of Metrotitan

"Remember men," Chromia told the soldiers that waited around her, "You must not break, you must not give in and above all, do not give chase if they flee. We are facing the most cunning, brutal and most horrific Decepticon that ever lived; if you see Shockwave anywhere at all, call it in, and then prepare to go over the top and fight for your life. Cybertron counts on us! If the monster that rules this planet is destroyed, our planet will be free!"

In the trenches and palisades across the centre, Autobots raised their arms and cheered. They whooped and yelled, just as the Decepticon drones began their charge.

"HERE THEY COME!" Armorhide yelled.

* * *

><p><em>So this was it; the first and most important battle of his life began.<em>

_Only absolute victory was necessary in order to survive._

_And that's the trick, isn't it? To survive. To live just one day more…_

* * *

><p>"Commander," Ramjet said, laying the disrespect in his tone on as thick as he possibly could, "Lieutenants Payload, Lockjaw and Stockade are advancing as fast as they can towards the Autobot barricade. In my opinion, as your aide-de-camp, they won't be enough."<p>

Dreadwing studied his charging soldiers.

"We'll see."

* * *

><p>"What is he playing at?" Astrotrain wondered, studying the attacking drones.<p>

"He is using a very basic deployment," Shockwave observed, "A poor choice."

"So do you regret hiring him?" Astrotrain dared.

"I regret nothing in my life, Astrotrain. Indeed, this is actually rather good; using this deployment, he will come under a lot of stress. It is how he handles this stress that will decide where he stands in my command."

"If he survives this battle," Astrotrain grinned.

"If he survives, but loses, then he will wish for death. His screams will satisfy me until I get my hands on Silverbolt."

* * *

><p>"The drones are coming!" Silverbolt cried out to the thousands of troops at the barricades, "NOT ONE STEP BACK!"<p>

The drones charged, leaping obstacles and ducking under twisted metal, until they arrived in range of the Autobot guns.

"FIRE!"

* * *

><p>At least fifty drones burst into flame and debris as a mix of lasers and missiles screamed into them, parts of their body flying all over the place. Mortar barrages hit the charging Decepticons like meteors, tearing through the drones like tissue paper. They quickly went to ground, crawling through the thunderous barrage. On the left flank, they were hit the hardest.<p>

"GET TO COVER YOU PIECES OF SCRAP!" Payload roared, watching as the soldiers around him exploded, showering the lieutenant with flaming debris.

"Frag!" he cried, slapping the flames around him.

He could see the Autobot barricades in the distance. They were supposed to break through that? They couldn't even reach them…

"Fire back!" he ordered on his communicator, every drone on the left flank obeying, "Hit them with everything you've got!"

The drones fired back, their laser weapons screeching across Cybertron's wastes, slamming into the trenches and palisades in the distance.

"Keep it up!" Payload commanded, "We need to reach them as quickly as possible!"

It was a long crawl.

And then he looked up, to see Autobot flyers descending on them.

* * *

><p>"OPEN FIRE!" Skyblast shouted, descending with the flyers.<p>

Lasers and missiles slammed into the ground, drones disappearing into the flame and explosions that echoed all around them.

"HA!" Skyblast roared, "These 'cons don't stand a chance against us! Wipe them all out!"

But as they spun around to make another pass, the drones started to fire back. One of Skyblast's soldiers was hit, screaming and spiralling as he began his plummet towards certain death.

"Keep it together 'bots!" Skyblast called encouragingly, "These 'cons are just firing at shadows in the dark."

But when another of his soldiers exploded in mid-air, Skyblast realised that the drones' accuracy was better than usual.

* * *

><p>"Sir, their air units are bombarding the left flank! Payload may not be able to weather the storm!" Ramjet looked at his commander, "Ur… sir? What are you doing?"<p>

Dreadwing had his optic shielded, his servos taut with concentration. He stood still as a statue, ignoring Ramjet.

"SIR?" Ramjet called louder.

Dreadwing opened his eye. "Ramjet, when I concentrate, I connect with the drones. I see what they see and direct them where needed. I influence what they will do and what they can do. So, shut up for a minute so that I may do it again."

Ramjet frowned. "We still have reserves. And I'd reinforce the left."

"I will take your advice when needed, Ramjet. As I do not need it now, SHUT UP!"

His optic shielded again, Dreadwing began to concentrate.

* * *

><p>On the Autobots left flank (the Decepticons right), the drones were heading straight towards the trenches.<p>

"They're almost on us," Warpath muttered, firing a shoulder-mounted missile into the drones that were almost at their position, "We need air support!"

"All the air support is on the right," Grindcore responded, firing his laser into the ranks of encroaching Decepticons, "We're on our own!"

Breakaway leapt into the trench beside them. "How goes the fight troops?"

"They're almost here sir!" Warpath cried, "Help us fight them!"

In response Breakaway's arms became cannons and he leapt on the edge of the trench.

"COME AND GET IT!" he roared, lighting up the drones like fireworks, shouting jubilantly as he did so. The drones fell under his onslaught.

But at that moment, a different Decepticon leapt out of nowhere, a large spear in his hands. He roared, bringing the weapon down on Breakaway. The Autobot barely dodged, but the weapon continued down, cracking against the ground. The shockwave from the powerful weapon knocked all of them from their feet. As Warpath shakily got to his feet, the Decepticon leapt on top of him.

"Give yourself to the void," it spoke nastily, "For your pathetic life ends now!"

As he prepared to land the killing blow, Grindcore slammed into him. The Decepticon roared as he was tackled to the ground, but struggled on, smashing his fists into Grindcore's face. As they fought in the dug-out trenches, the drones pressed forward.

"Come on!" Warpath pulled at Grindcore, watching Breakaway get away in the nick of time, "They press forward! We must fall back to the second line!"

As Grindcore got off the beaten Decepticon, the drones reached the trench. Warpath turned and blew three away in quick succession, his barrels smoking, while Grindcore scrambled out the back of the trench. Warpath quickly followed, shooting down a couple more drones, before fleeing at full pelt to the next trench, lasers whistling over his head.

As they landed in the next trench, the beaten Decepticon was helped up by the drones.

"A-All drone units!" he cried, "This is Lieutenant Stockade; terminate every last one of the Autobot scraps!"

* * *

><p>"Ramjet, send our air units to support the left flank."<p>

"All of them?" his assistant frowned, "We leave none to support the other commanders?"

"Payload is faltering," Dreadwing saw through the drones, "He needs help in his battle."

"What about our sentient troops?"

"They are not needed at the moment," Dreadwing huffed.

"We have a thousand of them!" Ramjet spluttered, "Split them into three units each and send them off to every flank!"

"I am commander, Ramjet," Dreadwing uttered with anger, "So do not question my orders again."

As Ramjet opened his communicator, Dreadwing went back to the drones.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, observers from high in the sky, a few miles from the battle, wondered at Dreadwing's opening moves.<p>

"He's sending his aerial drones to the left!" Skywarp called.

"They are struggling there…" Thundercracker observed, "But he shouldn't use them all."

"He really is pathetic!" Divebomb cried.

"Don't worry guys," Stormslayer opened up the sarcasm, "He has Ramjet with him!"

They all burst out laughing at that.

"By Primus…" Thundercracker laughed, "He's not getting out alive!"

* * *

><p>As Skyblast turned for another run, he was greeted by a most unwelcome sight.<p>

"Decepticon flyers!" he cried to his squad, a mix of drones and cybertronians, "Evade!"

As the Autobots split up, the Decepticons hammered in, shooting down several Autobots, who burst into flame and light, carcasses of the sky.

"Swing round to the left and increase altitude by 150 metres!" Skyblast ordered, "Use formation ten!"

As the Autobots shot into the sky, the Decepticons followed like falcons, tracking their prey with pinpoint accuracy, Skyblast's comrades dropping out the sky one-by-one.

_No… this cannot happen! I won't let it happen!_

Roaring, Skyblast turned around in mid-air and shot towards the Decepticons. Caught off-guard, several were shot down quickly, but a drone transformed in mid-air, aiming at Skyblast, claws outstretched. In response, the Autobot air commander transformed, a sword in hand as he let loose a battle-cry.

As they collided above the battle, snow began to fall.

* * *

><p>Payload ducked behind a piece of upturned ground, the metal shielding him from laser shots. A missile glanced across the ground beside him, smashing into a drone and blowing it to pieces while a Decepticon aerial drone slammed into the ground, just a couple of metres away.<p>

Even with the air support, it wasn't going well.

As the first few snowflakes melted on his armour, Payload turned his gaze to the sky, aiming his cannon at any flying craft that looked even slightly like an Autobot. Eventually, he found one; a flyer blazed across the jet-black sky, shooting down Decepticons left and right. He transformed and collided with a drone in mid-air, so Payload aimed his gun high.

He fired, the laser shot cutting the air in half, tearing through one of the Autobot's wings and killing the Decepticon drone.

He smiled slightly, before leaping into another part of cover.

* * *

><p>Skyblast fell with the snow, screaming as he went, his wing smashed.<p>

_NO! NO NO NO NO NO! HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME! I'M GOING TO DIE, I'M GOING TO DIE! WHY WON'T SOMEONE HELP?_

But as the ground came rushing to meet him, he felt calm for a second.

_I'm going to die… so this is how it feels…_

He smashed into the frozen battlefield.

* * *

><p>Ramjet shivered, the snow already beginning to settle. He turned to his commander, who continued to stand like a statue.<p>

"Sir… I believe we need to get out of the snow… otherwise we may go into stasis-lock."

Dreadwing sighed. "Commit the energy that you use for your mouth, into your internal temperature."

But Ramjet was right; it was cold, and if unwatched, could kill them if their temperatures were lowered long enough. The spark would freeze in their bodies.

Dreadwing looked to the stars for forgotten warmth.

But the clouds blocked out the sky, leaving it black and foreboding.

* * *

><p>"Blackfist, how goes the battle?"<p>

Blackfist consulted his observers in the sky. A minute later, he had an answer.

"At the moment they are evenly matched, although the fiercest fighting is being fought on the left."

"Then we are on the wrong side of the battlefield," Lacerator snarled, "We made a mistake in being behind Dreadwing's right."

Lacerator and his aide, Blackfist, were alike in pretty much every way; ruthless, evil and starving for battle. The troops under their command were the same, all of them clutching a violent melee weapon of sorts. Flails, machetes and spiked fists littered the soldiers of the 'Warlords'; Shockwave's frontline troops. They had never before lost a battle under Lacerator's or Shockwave's command and their thirst for battle was as infamous as their brutal execution of it.

"No," Lacerator reconsidered, "The right will fall. Dreadwing cannot see it, but the right will fall. The centre will hold for another hour, but the right will start falling soon."

"Are you sure sir?" Blackfist asked, his long-standing friendship with his commander making him the only cybertronian on the planet who could ask that question and live, "Stockade seems to be holding well enough."

"No… Stockade cannot command drones. I see them being wiped out now… yes, the right will fall."

* * *

><p>"The right will fall," Onslaught observed.<p>

His lieutenant said nothing, unsure whether or not to answer.

_Yes, Dreadwing is being pushed hard on both flanks; but how will he answer? I would push my reserves into the centre, breaking through to distract their flanks… but I know not how much Dreadwing knows. He still has his sentient troops…_

Onslaught's troops, too far away from the battle to provide reinforcements, simply observed.

* * *

><p>"The right will be overrun," Shockwave realised.<p>

"Really sir?" Astrotrain peered from their ridge, in-between Onslaught's troops and Metrotitan, "It seems to be holding well enough for the moment."

"'The moment', is a tide held back by a net; it will only last until the tide surges," Shockwave contemplated.

"So he should reinforce the right as quickly as possible?"

"That is one course of action toward victory; not the best, but not the worst. Dreadwing's opening moves were poor and he has no more air support to give; if he pulls them back from the left, that will fall as well. He needs to watch his flanks."

Astrotrain watched with gleaming eyes. "I don't believe he will."

* * *

><p>"Sir, our flanks are being pushed hard!" Ramjet reported, "We should reinforce them immediately!"<p>

Dreadwing was shaking from the cold, his sensors not working as well as they should have been. He stared at the battle on-going through the snow, watching his drones being torn to ribbons. Although they were making progress in the centre, the flanks were indeed being pushed hard from Metrotitan.

"Fine," Dreadwing said reluctantly, not wishing to use the cybertronians under his command, "Send a third of our reserves to reinforce the left!"

"A-And the r-right?" Ramjet shivered.

"We'll wait a little longer; see what's happening there. If it begins to buckle, we'll reinforce Stockade as well."

Ramjet would have argued the point that it was buckling anyway, but the cold bit at his armour, and he'd rather see Dreadwing executed than help with an impossible victory.

* * *

><p>"Sir, their reinforcing their left!" Silverbolt's lieutenant spoke, watching the battle with sharp eyes, "But he does not reinforce his right!"<p>

"I realise too late that we are not facing Shockwave," Silverbolt sighed, "I'm sorry… I've lead you all to your deaths. Even if we beat back this poor commander, Shockwave, who is hiding behind their lines like a coward, will overrun us."

His lieutenant frowned. "Sir, we would gladly die for you, but don't be so pessimistic. Once we crush this whelp, we will fall back; we can trap him in the ruins."

"He will never take the bait."

"So then we'll escape."

Silverbolt smiled, realising not all was lost; they just needed to beat the forces laid out before them.

"Fine then; tell Breakaway to redouble his efforts for their right must break. Then reinforce our right, match their reinforcements and destroy them!"

"Yes sir!"

* * *

><p>Skyblast saw the sky.<p>

The snow landed on his face. It was calming.

He had somehow survived the fall, but couldn't move anything. He was like a broken toy, discarded by the sky.

Two drones appeared above him.

"Subject; Autobot soldier," one spoke.

"Commencing extermination," said the other.

Skyblast closed his eyes as they raised their cannons.

Two shots rang out.

Skyblast opened his eyes, seeing the drones were missing their heads.

A different figure appeared above him.

"Y-You!" Skyblast cried.

"Been a long time, hasn't it Skyblast?"

* * *

><p>Stockade looked around the trench. The fight wasn't going well.<p>

Dreadwing's drones were useless; they simply went over the trench and got shot. There was nothing Stockade could do, except hunker down and hope the Autobots didn't attack. His spear hummed in his hands, the whole thing throbbing with power. The weapon had smashed five Autobots already, and a couple of drones, but they didn't matter. What mattered were the 'bots in the next trench.

They kept the Stockade and his troops pinned down under walls of laser fire and grenade barrages, never leaving to launch an assault, just waiting until Stockade did.

"Drones!" he called, "Go round the right and launch a flanking attack! Take half the force!"

Although the drones quickly recognised it as a very poor tactical decision, they were inclined to obey, moving down the trenches to begin the assault.

_Damn… I may need reinforcements from Dreadwing…_

* * *

><p>"S-Sir!" Ramjet shook like a leaf, "S-S-Stockade requests r-reinforcements!"<p>

Dreadwing shivered as well, his temperature dropping.

"R-Request denied!" he replied.

"B-But the right is close to snapping!" Ramjet cried, infuriated by his commander's blindness.

"I-It will h-hold…" Dreadwing whispered.

"SIR!"

"Fine then!" Dreadwing cried, "Get Lacerator to send some men up; not all of them, just enough! We need some reserves to stay!"

"But what if he doesn't send any?" Ramjet asked, red eyes blazing through the falling snow.

"He must," Dreadwing gazed at the battle in the distance, "This is for Cybertron…"

Ramjet spat at the ground, because he could not think of what else to do. "I don't think that one cares much about this chunk of metal."

* * *

><p>"Wingblade!" Skyblast cried as they took cover, "I haven't seen you since Simfur!"<p>

"Yeah, it's been tough," Wingblade mumbled, ducking under a missile, "But I live. One of the few that does."

"What about Nightslayer?" Skyblast asked, blowing apart another drone.

"I know not where he is," Wingblade sighed, "He left with Elita-One a long time ago."

"You did not join them?" Skyblast asked, surprised.

"I prefer to strike out on my own. They didn't need me anyway."

A sentient Decepticon leapt out of nowhere, knocking Skyblast to the ground, his hands covered with spike and claws. He raised his arms to beat down the Autobot, but Wingblade tackled him to the ground. Swords expanding from his arms, he brought his hands down in a flurry of punches, breaking off parts of the Decepticon's face. But the black figure kicked upward, sending Wingblade into a wall of metal, his back bent in pain. The 'con raised a blaster, staring down the sights at Wingblade's head. But the Autobot was having none of it, blasting towards the 'con's legs, knocking him down again. Grabbing the 'con's head in his hands, Wingblade started to pull. The Decepticon screamed as his neck began to twist, trying to turn his body or bring up his gun. But Skyblast got up and kicked the weapon out of the 'con's hand, before scrambling to pick it up. As Wingblade yanked the Decepticon's head off, Skyblast gunned down three drones with the 'con's blaster.

They scrambled into cover, watching more drones advance.

"Just like old times, huh?" Skyblast smiled.

"Just like old times," Wingblade nodded.

* * *

><p>Armorhide and the huge Crosshairs fought back-to-back in the centre, the Decepticons pushing hard.<p>

"These drones are tougher than usual!" Armorhide called out, kicking a group of encroaching drones back.

"Aye, they resort to hand-to-hand weapons when close," Crosshairs replied grimly, hefting his double-handed battle axe into another group of drones.

As they fought the drones in close combat, Armorhide stole a quick glance over the battlefield.

The Autobot right, which was the Decepticon's left, seemed to be going well. Skyblast's troops bombarded the Decepticons lasers and missiles that struck the ground, exploding, pillars of fire and metal roaring into the night.

The Autobot left was even better. Breakaway's forces were running circles round Stockade's troops, annihilating entire squadrons of drones by simply outmanoeuvring them, then hitting them from the rear. Although these drones were tougher, they were still just basic machines. Machines that were easily destroyed.

However, in the middle, where Armorhide and Crosshairs fended off drones under the command of Lockjaw, their dwindling units were dwindling further.

"It's a shame we have no reinforcements," Armorhide grunted.

In response, Crosshairs leapt forward, bringing down his huge axe onto a drone, shearing it in half. Swinging round, he caught several more, tearing them apart. Armorhide followed him, keeping close, blowing apart another drone with his arm cannon. But more kept on coming.

"We can't beat them all!" Armorhide roared as a laser glanced off his shoulder, charring it.

"No," Crosshair's agreed, spying a figure in the distance, "But if the head were to be destroyed, the body may die as well."

Armorhide followed his gaze to the commanding Decepticon in the distance, Lockjaw unaware of their plans.

"It's not exactly Shockwave," Armorhide grunted, "But he'll do until I meet the bastard."

* * *

><p>"Sir," Blackfist snarled, "Commander Dreadwing <em>graciously <em>asks for reinforcements to the right."

"He has come to me?" Lacerator said, false shock upon his face, "What a mess he has made of things. Whatever shall I do…?"

He looked about the men under his command. They were all eager to crush Autobot sparks. Although Lacerator would have liked to appease them, he also would have liked to piss Dreadwing off.

"Dreadwing still has reserves," Lacerator indicated the two large units of sentient troops behind Dreadwing's ridge. "And as long as he still has reserves, I do not see why he needs my troops."

The Warlords grumbled, unhappy that their commander would not send them in. But Lacerator knew they wouldn't move an inch; their loyalty was unmatched.

"Don't worry Warlords," Lacerator told the ranks of soldiers as Blackfist relayed his message to Ramjet, "We'll join the battle; just not yet."

* * *

><p>An icy look appeared across Ramjet's face and it wasn't from the cold.<p>

"S-Sir!" Ramjet spat, "Lacerator says that as long as we have reserves, your request for reinforcements is _denied_."

Dreadwing's body was white, the snow having settled. His power systems were beginning to fail, and unless he found a way to warm up his body, he would go into stasis lock.

"'Denied'?" Dreadwing echoed with a sense of doom in his voice.

"Denied," Ramjet reiterated, "And as the commander, you must make the next choice; our reserves. Where do we send them?"

Dreadwing studied all three fronts through a failing optic. The reports were saying the right was being crushed, but so was the left. And the left seemed to have the busiest fighting there.

"Sir!" Ramjet cried, receiving new information, "Payload claims that Silverbolt has appeared on the left! What are your orders?"

The snow fell upon them both. Ramjet shook his body to shake off the snow while Dreadwing sat immobile.

"Silverbolt?" Dreadwing echoed again, his voice in a far-away land.

"SIR!" Ramjet cried, "Your orders?"

Dreadwing shook slightly before relaying his message.

"S-Send out last units… to the left. They must break the left."

Ramjet didn't even bother telling his commander that the right was doomed. It was a waste of energy. So he simply relayed his instructions to the soldiers behind him.

Dreadwing looked out over the battlefield, his body beginning to fail.

* * *

><p>"Dreadwing's committing all his reserves to the left," Stormslayer observed calmly.<p>

"So he has no more units left," Skywarp watched.

"Yeah, but if he breaks through the left, then he could encircle the Autobots and force a surrender," Divebomb argued.

"But Stockade's forces are going to break," Thundercracker intoned, the most experienced of them all realised, "And then the Autobots could diverge forces to the centre, forcing Dreadwing to retreat."

"I'm surprised he's lasted this long!" Skywarp snarled, his face twisted in an evil leer.

"Indeed," Thundercracker replied, watching the ridge where Dreadwing and Ramjet commanded their army.

"Heh, it's actually more fun watching them squirm and shudder when I see a drone pop!" Divebomb laughed, "Observing this battle is a lot more fun than participating in it!"

Slowly but surely, a twisted smile grew on Thundercracker's face.

"Well… maybe you need some practise then," he said maliciously, "In battle."

"You want to help him?" Stormslayer asked, surprised.

"He is an idiot not worth his weight in scrap. But he is a Seeker who was once under the command of Starscream, but now has fallen under my command. But his recent promotion… it seems in my duty to assist him."

"Then what was that earlier?" Skywarp asked.

"What? Wasn't Ramjet good enough?"

They laughed at that.

* * *

><p>Stockade smashed an Autobot drone to pieces with his bare hands, two drones covering him in the trench. The Autobots were charging across the metal wastes, roaring as they came, intent on taking back the trenches they had lost.<p>

"Where are those reinforcements?" Stockade cried, "Why won't Dreadwing send help?"

One of the drones replied. "Analysis of your inquiry has yielded 0 results."

"SHUT UP AND SHOOT!" Stockade snarled with fury, "KILL THEM ALL!"

* * *

><p>"I see the one in command!" Warpath roared, dispatching another drone with a slug, "That bastard almost killed me; now gut him ourselves."<p>

"Breakaway's wrapping things up down the trench," Grindcore replied, "We're on our own."

Warpath grinned through the snow and fire. "Fine by me!"

With a roar, they charged over the trench.

* * *

><p>"SIR!" Ramjet roared, slapping Dreadwing out of going into stasis lock, "ORDERS!"<p>

"You struck a commanding officer!" Dreadwing spat, "How dare—"

"SHUT UP DREADWING!" Ramjet cried, "The left is a mess, the right is almost broken and Lieutenant Lockjaw in the centre is dead! WE NEED ORDERS!"

"B-But…" Dreadwing looked aghast, standing up, the snow falling from his armour, "W-We have no more troops to give!"

"It doesn't matter!" Ramjet shouted, "You are in command; so command!"

"I…"

"NOW GIVE YOUR ORDERS!"

Dreadwing looked to the sky. "I'm dead Ramjet. I have failed. Our forces will break and I'll be executed. There's no way for me to win…"

Ramjet struck Dreadwing across the face again, hard enough to send his commanding officer to the ground. Dreadwing stared up in shock.

"Fine then," Ramjet smiled, "You're dead. So I can hit you however hard I want."

"B-B-But I'm not dead yet!"

"THEN DO SOMETHING!"

Dreadwing turned to look out over the battlefield. He tried to look up at the night sky, to see the stars, but they were still blocked by the clouds.

"Where's Silverbolt?"

Ramjet took out an axe from his leg. "Payload said he was on the left."

Dreadwing turned to his aide and nodded.

"So let me die in style."

They transformed and roared into the night.

* * *

><p>Silverbolt and Skyblast flew together, bombing the drones from above.<p>

"We've almost won this!" Skyblast roared.

"Don't get cocky," Silverbolt warned, "The tide could turn…"

Two Decepticons roared towards them.

"…at any time."

* * *

><p>"What the—"<p>

"He's charging in!"

"Dreadwing's going into battle?"

"No way—"

Thundercracker frowned. "I didn't think he had it in him."

Divebomb turned to his commander. "He'll die sir!"

"Yes, he will… unless we assist him."

"I agree sir… wait, what?"

"Units 1-7," Thundercracker shouted, "CHARGE!"

A thousand craft shot through the sky.

* * *

><p>Transforming in mid-air, Dreadwing smashed into Silverbolt. As they tumbled to the ground, Dreadwing punched Silverbolt again and again, as the Autobot tried to transform himself.<p>

They smashed into the ground with a resounding crunch of metal.

Above them, Ramjet and Skyblast duelled in the air.

As Dreadwing shakily got to his feet, Silverbolt tackled him. Bringing the Decepticon to the ground, he smashed a fist into Dreadwing's optic, trying to shatter it. He kneed Dreadwing in the chest, bits of metal and energon flying out.

"What's your name scum?" Silverbolt snarled, raising his fist for the killing blow.

"D-Dreadwing."

"Then prepare to die Dreadwing, and let my face be the last thing you see—"

A laser smashed into Silverbolt's shoulder, causing it to explode in flame and metal. He screamed, using his boosters to fly into a hasty retreat.

Payload and a few other Decepticons lifted Dreadwing to his feet.

"Commander Dreadwing!" Payload shouted, "Are you all right?"

"Y-Yes… come on, we need to get Silverbolt! The Autobots must be crushed!"

But as he turned to continue the assault, the Decepticons stood still.

"Are you functioning properly?" Dreadwing asked, "Come on! We have to beat them!"

"Uh, sir…" Payload trailed off.

"We can't beat them!" one of the other Decepticons burst out, "They hit us from the air and then hit us from the land! We have to retreat!"

Dreadwing looked at the group of soldiers with disgust.

"Don't you get it?" Dreadwing spat, "The Autobots are worse off than us! Silverbolt runs and his troops are close to collapsing! These are the last Autobots on our planet! We wipe them out, and the world is ours!"

"'Ours'?" another Decepticon snarled, "You mean _yours_. What about us, the common soldier? What will we do in times of peace? Fight amongst each other? Let the Autobots have their victory, and let us have our lives!"

Dreadwing snarled and levelled his blaster at them. "You will be executed for treason!"

The Decepticons readied their weapons as well, staring their commander in the face. "If we are to be executed, then let a whelp like you join us!"

Dreadwing quickly realised he was outmatched by his own troops.

But just as they were about to go down in a blaze of idiocy, a rumbling sound echoed across the sky.

Dreadwing felt a shiver run down his spine. That distant thunder could mean only one thing…

"What's that?" Payload asked no-one in particular, looking up to the sky.

Dreadwing took it to his advantage.

"It is not the noise you should be frightened of," Dreadwing warned, "It is the bearer. And he does not like traitors."

The Decepticons looked back to Dreadwing, fear in their eyes.

"If you turn tail, at the eve of our victory, you will find only Shockwave waiting for you. And, logically, traitors should not be allowed a second chance."

The Decepticons quickly lowered their weapons.

"But all is forgiven if you just do this last thing; beat the Autobots. They cower behind their barricades and wish for mercy. If you show them none, then I shall show it to you. Or would you rather face Shockwave's wrath?"

Payload and his soldiers readied their weapons.

"So now… now is the time for battle. Now is the time for victory! NOW IS THE TIME FOR THEIR DESTRUCTION! SO, BY THE STARS, CRUSH THEIR BARRICADES AND TRAMPLE THEM UNDERFOOT!"

As the thunder rolled over head, with battle-fuelled cries and weapons in hand, they charged towards the barricades.

And with Thundercracker's pass, the barricades explodedm, the flames lighting the night.

* * *

><p>As Silverbolt shot down the street, trying to keep altitude with his injury, he reflected on how everything had gone wrong.<p>

_No, no, no, no, NO! How did they come back? Why did they commit their reserves at the breaking point? Where do we go now? What do we do?_

_I need to find the other Autobots! Maybe Prowl or Elita-One—hang on; what's that—?_

Something squat and evil leapt from the street and grabbed hold of Silverbolt. Screaming as he fell, Silverbolt smashed into the street, the thing that had grabbed him being flung into a pile of debris.

As Silverbolt shakily got to his feet, he looked around…

…as Incinerator leapt at him, roaring.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN BURY ME?" he roared, smacking Silverbolt aside, "BURRRRRNNNNNNN!"

Purple flames melted through the metal floor, Silverbolt scrambling away, terror on his face.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Silverbolt fired his boosters and screamed as a foot was reduced to molten slag. Spinning into the air, he transformed and shot away, screaming in pain.

Incinerator whooped.

"HAHAHAHAHA! I'LL SEE YOU LATER AUTOBOT! AND I'LL MAKE YOU SCREAM EVEN LOUDER!"

* * *

><p>Skyblast tumbled out of the sky, trying to right himself. Ramjet screamed down, trying to blow him out of the sky. The Autobot righted himself and got a good look at the flank.<p>

The Autobots were running.

They were routing, tumbling over one another in their attempt to get away from the burning barricades. They screamed as they exploded into pieces, Decepticon flyers landing on top of them and hacking them to pieces with axes and swords. He saw Wingblade take off and flee over Metrotitan.

_No… this can't be…_

Ramjet smashed into him, sending him spiralling towards the ground. A missile exploded against Skyblast's side, turning his arm into twisted metal. Screaming, he shot towards the cover of the city, limping in-flight.

* * *

><p>Chromia looked about her.<p>

_There is no victory here._

"Crosshairs!"

The hulking Autobot turned, his battle-axe coated with energon.

"Aye, I know…"

"Yeah. Tell Armorhide we need to fall back if were not to be outflanked. We have lost this one.

Crosshairs muttered something under his breath.

"There may not be another one…"

* * *

><p>Stockade stared down the barrel of a gun.<p>

The Autobot smiled.

"See you in the pit, creep."

Stockade turned off his optics, not watching the barrel light up.

And then the Autobot screamed.

Stockade opened his eyes to see a Decepticon smashing a flail into the Autobot, laughing as he did it. The Autobot fell to the ground, screaming as pieces of his head came loose and energon splattered the trench. Even after the 'bot had fallen silent, the Decepticon continued to flail for another couple of minutes, just to see the body spasm. Looking around him, Stockade saw hundreds of similar looking 'cons, all armed with an assortment of menacing looking weapons, crawling over the trenches.

Once the flail-wielding Decepticon had finished, he turned to Stockade.

"What you looking at?" he snarled.

"Scrap," Stockade replied.

"Shut your mouth!"

Stockade readied his spear. "Make me."

The menacing Decepticon smiled with no warmth. "I like you. Ever thought of joining the Warlords?"

"What do they do?"

"Kill Autobots."

"Anything else?"

"We torture them."

Stockade smiled. "Count me in. Name's Stockade."

"Spinebreaker," the Decepticon replied, "And it's literal."

* * *

><p>"Sir!" Ramjet called to Dreadwing as he dispatched another Autobot, "Lacerator's attacking the right!"<p>

"No way."

"It seems that Thundercracker's involvement moved him to want a slice of the victory as well. Either way, the Warlords are reinforcing Stockade!"

"Excellent!" Dreadwing cried, as another Autobot fell beneath his sword, "Victory is in sight!"

With one last push, they charged through the night, the ground raising up beneath them.

* * *

><p>…<p>

They were surrounded by bodies.

The Warlords had simply overrun them. Mashed up corpses, mangled carcasses and torn bodies littered the battleground. Although the Warlords had simply blazed through and left corpses in their wake, a few remained behind, picking loot from the dead.

It was these that Warpath and Grindcore picked out.

Lacerator had charged after the fleeing Autobots in Metrotitan, leaving Blackfist to carry out the corpse-robbing operation. Not that he minded; he liked ripping up bodies, dead or alive.

Very slowly, the two Autobots crawled through the wreckage.

"I've just heard," Grindcore whispered in fury, "Our forces are routing. We've lost."

"Nothing we can do about that now," Warpath grunted, "But we'll take a few of them with us before we go."

"The plan?"

"I'll take the one in charge, you cover me," Warpath ordered, "I'll kill him up close, while you shoot any that try to interfere."

"But… we'll die…"

"Then I'll see you on the other side," Warpath smiled and stood up.

As he walked towards the Decepticons, bearing no arms, they spotted him and quickly aimed their weapons.

"Ah, cowards are we?" Warpath taunted, "Not 'con enough to beat me in a fair fight?"

The Warlords stared him down, unsure of what to do.

"Don't worry troops," Blackfist smirked, drawing a machete from his back, "He's mine."

Warpath stepped up to Blackfist, smiling. Blackfist snarled in response as Warpath drew an axe out of his arm.

"So then…" Warpath began.

"WORDS ARE WASTED IN BATTLE!" Blackfist roared, and charged.

Their blades slammed against each other, the sound ringing across the battlefield.

Meanwhile, Grindcore grabbed a rifle and watched the Warlords.

* * *

><p>The ground beneath Chromia exploded, sending her into the side of a building.<p>

Armorhide turned to face the threat only to have a laser shear off his left arm.

Crosshairs transformed and was shot for his trouble, flipping him over into a pile of rubble.

Sixshot holstered his two battle pistols and looked at three seconds work.

Chromia had been knocked unconscious, Armorhide was on his rump, grunting with pain and Crosshairs was shakily getting to his feet.

He studied all three of them, his hands ready to dart to his pistols at any time.

"W-Who the frag are you?" Crosshairs gasped out.

Sixshot looked up to the sky, to see it had stopped snowing and the clouds were parting.

"A Decepticon," Sixshot replied, still staring at the sky, "Who does not like shooting females or the injured. You better send your one-armed friend to get her out of here."

Crosshairs frowned, getting to his feet and grabbing his huge axe.

"Armorhide, forget about your arm and get Chromia out of here," he told the stricken Autobot, "She'll get you a replacement. The Decepticons are coming…"

Armorhide nodded, quickly scooped up the much smaller Chromia in his arm before legging it down the street.

The 17 foot Sixshot, squared off against the 28 foot Crosshairs.

"You're big," Sixshot noted.

"Aye, but I'll cut you down further before we're done."

"The bigger they come, the harder they fall."

Crosshairs roared and brought his axe down, with Sixshot nimbly dodging to the side.

"Strength and size are all very well," Sixshot mused, dodging another swing, "But speed wins every battle."

"The fast are too hasty!" Crosshairs roared, and flung the axe at Sixshot, who simply leapt over it.

As Sixshot got to his feet again, a missile smashed into him, sending him spinning into a fallen skyscraper.

Crosshairs ran towards it, intent on finishing him off.

* * *

><p>Blackfist sucker-punched Warpath, sending him spinning into a corpse. The other Warlords laughed and jeered. Warpath realised he might have bitten off more than he could chew.<p>

_He's strong and fast… he knows when to time a punch and how to deliver it… Grindcore might need to help me._

Warpath picked himself up again and began circling yet again.

Blackfist feinted with his machete, before slamming another fist into Warpath's abdomen. As Warpath gasped, he tried to bring down his axe, which was simply parried away. He backed away again, but Blackfist followed through with a leg kick, which tripped Warpath into another corpse.

"You know, this sport is beginning to wear thin," Blackfist smirked, brandishing the machete, "Maybe I should finish you off now."

Warpath grunted, and realised it was all or nothing. Picking himself up again, he suddenly threw the axe at Blackfist. Caught off guard, the Decepticon smacked the axe away with his machete, sending the weapon high into the air. But as the machete came down again, Warpath tackled Blackfist. They sprawled to the ground, Warpath smashing his fist into Blackfist's face. As the Decepticons around them roared, one of Blackfist's optics was smashed to pieces. He kicked upward, sending Warpath back into another corpse. He stood up and roared.

"AUTOBOT SCUM!"

But just before he charged, something shining in the night came thundering down.

Warpath looked at Blackfist and made a split-second decision.

As the Warlord charged, Warpath leapt into the air.

Blackfist looked up to see Warpath intercepting his axe, catching it, before falling with it. The Decepticon didn't even have time to move out the way.

Warpath brought the axe down on Blackfist's head, splitting it in half, and sending it down into Decepticon's body.

As the other Decepticons drew weapons, one of them was silenced by a headshot. Warpath charged another, bringing his axe up between its legs. It roared, but Warpath continued the axe's ascent, slicing the Decepticon in half.

A second Decepticon was finished by Grindcore.

As Warpath felt a glimmer of hope within him, that he might just survive, something like a thousand knives slashed his back.

He roared and fell to his knees.

A second slash and he screamed.

He looked up to see Lacerator glaring down at him.

"You just killed my favourite soldier," he snarled, "And now… your future is darkness."

And everything went black.

* * *

><p>Crosshairs paced steadily into the fallen skyscraper.<p>

It felt strange, walking on walls, with pillars stretching horizontally across his vision. It was dark, but his optics quickly illuminated—

Several laser shots slammed into his chest, tearing through his armour and breaking open his torso.

As he fell back under the onslaught, a calm and low voice echoed through the old building.

"Using weapons are we? Honour is dead then."

As Crosshairs fled out of the building, laser shots at his heels, a communication echoed through his mind.

"_Crosshairs? It's me, Wingblade! Don't worry just keep him in that building…_"

Crosshairs heard a thunder roll overhead.

Sixshot appeared at the hole in the wall.

"Old warriors… must be put to rest," he finished, aiming his pistols at Crosshairs head.

The thunder passed.

The fallen building exploded, Sixshot being enveloped in flame. He didn't let out a single sound as his body was wrapped up in an inferno.

Wingblade shot over the rooftops, circling in celebration once, before flying to the south.

Crosshairs let out a silent thanks, and sped down the street, into the city.

* * *

><p>The Autobots were in full retreat, routing into Metrotitan.<p>

The left had snapped under the weight of both Thundercracker's and Dreadwing's assault, while the right had suddenly found itself facing the best troops the Decepticons could offer. With both flanks crushed, the centre had to rout, lest it be outflanked and wiped out.

Shockwave watched Dreadwing approach his ridge. He knew what he was going to say.

The Seeker landed and quickly knelt before his lord.

"Lord Shockwave," he addressed, "I have delivered victory over the Autobots."

"But not with the troops you were requisitioned," Shockwave's dark voice intoned, "You needed help from both Thundercracker and Lacerator."

"They acted on their own!" Dreadwing panicked, believing his life was on the line, "They came to help without request!"

"But it was help you needed," Shockwave stated, undeniable, "You could not have achieved victory without them."

Dreadwing simply hung his head and waited for the order to end his life. Astrotrain watched from beneath his lord's throne, eyes intent on watching Dreadwing suffer.

"But," Shockwave said, "I asked you to deliver me a victory, and you have. So you will not die this day. Silverbolt's escape was regrettable but not unexpected. The Autobots are broken up. This is a result that is acceptable."

Dreadwing breathed a sigh of relief.

"But I do not understand one thing," Shockwave stared at Dreadwing out of his piercing optic, "Why did Thundercracker join the battle? No doubt Lacerator did so only because Thundercracker did. But why did Thundercracker join in the first place?"

Dreadwing looked up, his face a mask.

"I… I don't really know sir."

Shockwave gazed with an unsympathetic glare. Dreadwing could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.

"You army will be repaired Dreadwing," Shockwave stated, "Now, we return to Trypticon."

"B-But sir!" Dreadwing argued, "The Autobots are in full retreat, hiding in the ruins of Metrotitan! We could finish them once and for all!"

Shockwave stared at Dreadwing until the commander had to look away.

"Do not question me again Dreadwing," he said with no emotion, but plenty of threat, "All hail Megatron."

"All hail Megatron," Dreadwing muttered.

He then walked away, heading back to the APCs.

"B-But why does he not wish to hunt them down?" Dreadwing asked no-one in particular, "I don't understand."

"It's because he's sociopathic," Astrotrain responded, catching Dreadwing off-guard, "He does not wish the Autobots destroyed for one reason only; he would have no-one left to kill. So he keeps them alive, just so he can kill them later."

"So it's just a game to him?" a shocked Dreadwing asked.

"No… because that implies he has fun. Shockwave does not understand the concept of 'fun'. It is more of a… meaning of life. He would be nothing without anything to kill."

Astrotrain hurried after his master, leaving a stunned Dreadwing behind.

* * *

><p><em>His first victory wasn't even his. He had to thank a nostalgic Seeker and a raving psychopath for saving his hide.<em>

_But this was the beginning, the beginning of something new. Although it wouldn't really start until Shockwave left._

_But for now, he could be glad he was left alive._

_For now…_

* * *

><p>Well, that was a mess. But a good mess, filled with explosions! Whoop!<p>

Please review!


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